The Doctor of Hogwarts, Part I-Philosopher's Stone
by Friedrickson2
Summary: DW/HP AU: John Lungbarrow-Smith is starting at Hogwarts with Harry Potter, and tags along with his adventures. Well, he says tagging along, it's more like he's uninvited.
1. The Letter and the Station

Clara Oswald watched the strange owl fly into her family kitchen, with an envelope in its talons. It dropped it on the table, and then flew through the window it came in from. Her dad, Dave, walked over to the table, confused at the sight he'd seen, then picked up the envelope the owl had dropped on the table.

"It's addressed to you, Clara dear," he said, smiling weakly as he handed it to her. Clara took it, ripped it open neatly, as her mother had taught her, and took the letter out. She turned to Dave with a confused look and asked, "What's 'Hogwarts'?" Dave's eyes widened, as did his smile.

"Clara, Hogwarts is a school for wizards," he said, trying to sound 'intelligent'. "It's where I met your mother, as well, when we were in Third Year." Clara's face showed she was surprised. Wizards? Magic? She was ten now, and would be turning 11 in November, and like any other intelligent girl her age, she didn't really believe in magic. But she always liked the idea, and the news there was a school for wizards and witches meant she wanted to satisfy her curiosity, badly.

* * *

It was September 1, the first official day of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Clara and her father were at King's Cross Station to get on the train, the Hogwarts Express. She had marvelled at the past two weeks, when she and her dad were shopping for school items in Diagon Alley, where most of the Wizarding businesses and restaurants were located in London.

As Clara's parents were both Muggle-born wizards, or "mudbloods" as the more extreme blood-purists called them, they had exchanged the Pound Sterling for Wizarding Money, which consisted of knuts, sickles and galleons, at Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

She loved her new school clothes, and the wand, which was made of mahogany wood with a phoenix feather core. According to Mr Ollivander, it was the wand that chose the master, and never the other way around. Though what piqued her interest were two boys around a year older than her staring at her contemptuously whilst in Diagon Alley.

Walking along the station platform, she and her father looked for Platforms 9 and 10. "Why are we going there, Dad?" she asked inquisitively. "The train," began her dad in a quiet voice, "is at Platform 9 ¾. An eyebrow raised in confusion, Clara was about to open her mouth and object when she saw a young red-headed boy and a boy with glasses, both of them around her age, run through the brick wall with their luggage.

"So that's how it happens," she said. Her dad smiled at her, knowing it was time for her to leave. Hugging her, he said goodbye and then he walked off. Clara thought about spending today with him, but remembered that the train left at 11am sharp. She looked at the large clock. It read 10.44am. She decided to do what the two boys had done and run through the wall. It seemed straightforward, as nobody was looking at them.

Getting her and her luggage directly in front of the brick wall and simply ran as fast as possible. Just like the two other boys, she went straight through the wall and ended up on a strange platform with a dark crimson red 4-6-0 steam locomotive with a long train of carriages behind it.

Looking to her left, she saw another girl, around her age, with long brown frizzy hair in the same Hogwarts uniform. Clara walked towards the young girl, waving her hand. "Hey! HEY!" she yelled, getting the other girl's attention. She was a bit pretty, with her two front incisors being slightly larger than normal, though you could easily overlook this unless you really paid attention.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" she asked. "Yeah, yeah I am," replied Clara, smiling before she stuck her hand out. "My name's Clara. Clara Oswin Oswald, if you want all the details," she said. "Hermione Jean Granger," replied the other girl, smiling as well. "Well then, Hermione," said Clara smiling, "should we travel together in the same compartment?"

Hermione smiled, and said "Sure. I think we'd both be great friends." Together the two girls took their luggage and boarded the train that would take them to school, the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

 **AN: This story is my first fanfic, and it will be continued, so don't worry about waiting.**

 **AN2: A guide for non-Whovians:**

 **-The House of Lungbarrow (A very Harry Potter-like name, isn't it), is stated as being the House on Gallifrey that the Doctor belongs to, like the noble houses in England and Europe**

 **-The House of Oakdown, likewise, is the House the Master belongs to**

 **-The main Doctor used is the Eleventh, because he's my favourite, with a good few other Doctors appearing, such as the Fourth, but I won't give any more away (SPOILERS)**


	2. Boy in a Bowtie, the Toad, Ron and Harry

Clara and Hermione boarded one of the carriages, and after placing their luggage in the back of said carriage, were now talking about each other's lives. "My father was a Muggle-born wizard, and so was my mother," said Clara, her smile starting to disappear. "She-she died when I was eight, and…." She trailed off, placing a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry. Really, I am," said Hermione. Clara turned to her and removed the hand from her mouth. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. That's what I tell myself anyway," she said.

The two girls were so caught up in their conversation that they didn't notice a young boy around their age walk right into them, knocking over both them and his owl-cage, which was occupied by a rather large owl.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I am so sorry," said the boy, picking up his owl, which was now staring at the two girls with severe dislike. It was only when Hermione and Clara got up that they realised he was a bit…strange in his dress.

Instead of the usual school necktie, the piece of cloth wrapped around his neck was a bowtie with thin stripes, and in place of the usual school sweater was a light grey waistcoat of tweed, with a pocket watch with strange markings hanging from it. His shoes were leather and ankle-high, and the ends of some suspenders showed themselves as being attached to his trousers. But it was his face that the two girls really smiled at. His chin was large, and his brown hair was combed except for a large piece that flopped over his forehead. As for his eyebrows, they were small, barely noticeable.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Why exactly…are you wearing a bowtie?" she asked. The boy smiled, replying "Because I like them. They're cool, as are watches. Also, if it is a piece of cloth that can be tied around your neck as a fashion piece, then it constitutes a tie, according to the school dress code. Waistcoats are allowed as well." Clara looked at Hermione for a moment, then asked, "What kind of owl is that?"

The boy smiled, picking up the cage. "This is Idris, a Eurasian eagle-owl. She's about 5 kilograms and has a wingspan of 1.87 metres. And above all, she's beautiful, aren't you?" He began cooing at her, and Idris began responding affectionately. "Oh, by the way, I'm John."

"Hermione Granger."

"Clara Oswin Oswald."

John looked at Clara quizzically. "Oswin? Well, that's a nice name. I should know, I've heard lots of nice names. Anyway, I'm going to go find somewhere to sit. Bye." He waved and walked off, Clara and Hermione waving back.

"He's a bit strange, don't you think?" asked Hermione. "I mean that bowtie. And the chin on him." "Careful," said Clara in a concerned voice, "that owl of his was looking at me like it wanted to rip my head off."

Hermione bit her lip and tensed slightly. She was scared of John's owl. For one thing, it didn't like her very much. Also, it was massive. It could probably lift her off the ground.

* * *

The two girls found a place to sit just in time before the train started, next to a young boy also going in First Year called Neville, and a Fourth Year in Slytherin called Jack Harkness. Neville was friendly but shy, and showed the two his pet toad. "His name's Trevor. I don't know, though, what kind of toad it is," he explained. Clara was slightly disgusted that toads were allowed, but at the same time, intrigued by the toad. Then, Trevor took the time to jump out of Neville's hands and into the corridor. Neville got up and ran out the door, with Hermione going out to go the other way to find the toad. Clara took one look at Jack, who winked at her and grinned, and ran out after Hermione.

After searching the other compartments (and interrupting a rather peculiar old man in a multi-coloured scarf having tea and jelly babies), the two girls checked a compartment inhabited by the two boys Clara had seen earlier at the station.

"We're looking for a toad," said Clara, breathing heavily on purpose. Hermione nodded and said, "It belongs to a boy called Neville."

Clara nodded. "We've checked every compartment on this side of the train, including the one with a strange old man in a really colourful scarf which he had wrapped around himself like a dead snake, and we still can't find it."

"Are you practising magic, because I'd love to see it then," said Hermione, her voice a bit more enthusiastic. Ron took his pet rat and his wand and uttered " _Sunshine,_ _daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!_ " Nothing happened except a bright light coming from a box, which startled the rat, causing it to scurry into another sweet bag.

Clara looked at the sight, a sneer caused by disgust starting to form. "Are you sure that it's hygienic for the rat to be eating your sweets with you?" Ron looked at his rat in the sweet-bag and shook his head. Clara felt she struck a nerve and said after that, "No offense, sorry."

"It's alright, I get it a lot. And I'm sure that my brothers gave me a dud," replied the redhead as Hermione decided to sit down and practise a spell of her own on the other boy's glasses, which were in need of repair. "Oculus Reparo," she uttered, and the boy's glasses were immediately fixed. "That's better, isn't it?" she said, seeing him take off his glasses. He then moved his hair up a bit to reveal a small hint of a scar before placing his glasses back on.

"Thanks," he said, only to notice her shocked face. "Oh, Holy cricket! Are you really Harry Potter, in the flesh?" Clara's eyes widened, less in amazement, but more in confusion as to how her dad and her new friend knew the name of this boy. She decided to ask the redhead his name. "And you must be-?" He turned, having just eaten three jelly babies, and said, "Ron. Ron Weasley." Hermione said her name, as did Clara.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, though I think you should both change into your robes. I expect the train to be arriving soon," said Hermione, as she rose up and walked out into the corridor before stopping and turning to face Ron, saying, "You've got a bit of dirt on your nose. Right here." She gestured before walking back to the compartment where she, Clara and Neville were. Clara smiled and waved, saying "Bye," before she joined Hermione.

"I hope she's not in the same house as me," said Ron, rubbing his nose to find that she was right. "Which one, Clara or Hermione?" asked Harry inquisitively.

"Why, Hermione, Harry," said Ron. "Clara seems nice." At this, Harry nodded.

* * *

Clara and Hermione went back to find Neville annoyed with himself. "We tried searching everywhere, Neville, but we couldn't find Trevor," said Clara. Jack took the time to talk. "Is it true that Harry Potter's heading to Hogwarts?" he asked, an American accent on him. Clara nodded. "Just wondering, that's all," he said, as he closed his eyes and crossed his legs.

Clara went to sit down and immediately screamed, causing the other three students to jump. Clara got up and found it was Trevor the toad, who had climbed onto the seat. Clara took one look at where the toad was, where exactly it was and immediately dropped to the floor in a faint.

Jack smirked and said, "And so, the Case of The Missing Toad is solved."


	3. Explanations and Arriving at Hogwarts

"So," Clara began her question, after recovering from the shock of finding Trevor the toad underneath her, "what's so special about Harry Potter?" Her three coach-mates looked at her, wide-eyed like they didn't believe that she really had no clue about him.

* * *

Hermione was the first to speak. "Around 12-15 years ago, there was this Wizarding War, between the Death-Eaters, who were a group of fanatical pure-bloods, and the rest of the wizarding world. Their leader, well..." She tensed for a bit, before Jack decided to finish it for her by saying, "The leader of the Death-Eaters was called Lord Voldemort." Neville and Hermione glared at him with wide eyes. Jack shrugged it off and continued telling Clara. "You could really say he planned for this to happen because he put a curse on the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, to ensure that his enemies didn't create an army. Unsurprisingly, many of his followers came from Slytherin, who were always pureblood-loving asses. Not myself, though, I'm half-blood.

"Anyway, Clara, he used the three curses outlawed by the Ministry of Magic; the Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperius curse. He and his Death-Eaters tortured and killed a lot of people but he learned of a prophecy of a boy who would defeat him. You, Neville, were one of the two Voldemort, or You-Know-Who, thought would vanquish him. Which is why your parents were tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and her minions. Harry Potter was the other boy, and You-Know-Who decided that it was Harry who was the boy in the prophecy.

"So, when Harry was a year old, he went to the Potters' home, and killed Harry's parents. However, when he fired the Killing Curse at Harry, it backfired, leaving the baby with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and You-Know-Who in limbo, teetering between life and death, without a body of his own. So, Harry became famous as The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Survived the Wrath of You-Know-Who, The Boy who survived the Killing Curse."

"Wow, that's incredible," said Clara quietly. Jack breathed through his teeth lightly, before continuing, "Well, it's also tragic. Harry was sent to his closest relatives to hide him, and my God, they are the worst Muggles out there." The last part was said jokingly, as Jack had a big smile on his face and was chuckling to himself.

Neville raised an eyebrow of curiosity and asked Jack, "How exactly do you know all this, Jack?" Jack smiled a wider grin and said simply, "Oh, I have my ways, Neville dear. I have my ways."

* * *

After five more minutes, Clara, Hermione, Jack and Neville felt the train slowing down and looked out the window. They were at the Hogsmeade railway station, in the north of Scotland. Clara looked at the station itself. It was small, having been built in the 19th century, and was near a large lake, the Black Lake, over which was the majestic Hogwarts Castle, the home of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was dark outside. All the students exited the train, where they were greeted by a massive man with a beard, dressed in dull colours. John got out, fixed his bowtie and saw the strange man with the long scarf exit as well, and he saw the man wave at him. John waved back, politely.

"Greetings, boys and girls," he boomed in a Scottish accent. "First Years, this way, please!" Harry and Ron walked up to the man, who greeted him. "Hello again, Harry," he said in a quieter voice. "Hello, Hagrid," replied Harry. Ron gasped at the height of The First Years were all lined up and followed Hagrid down to the boats on the lakeside. The other students went a different way.

The students each got into the boats, four students per boat, with Hagrid in his own boat due to his size. "Any questions?" he asked. A hand shot up, from a student by the name of Jenny Flint. "Yessir," she said in an accent that sounded like a mix between Yorkshire and Wales, "who's rowing the boats?"

Hagrid laughed a big, hearty laugh for a few seconds before replying, "No need for rowin', missy, it's the magic that moves t' boats." With that his boat started to drift off into the lake towards the castle.

John found himself in a boat with another girl and two boys. The girl turned round to him and asked his name. "I'm John," he said simply, before he asked her, "What's yours?" The girl, a pretty thing with black hair, replied, "Lady Christina de Souza." John raised his eyebrows at the mention of this, saying, "My father once met your mother here. She was an amazing kisser, in his exact words."

Christina raised an eyebrow herself and leaned in, saying, "I could teach you a few moves if you wish." John backed away slightly, replying with, "Maybe later." One of the boys, who had blond-brown hair and a beak-like nose, turned to the two and said, "I'm Rory Williams, Christina. John and I go back years."

John nodded and added, "As does your crush Amelia Pond, who is also coming along." The last two parts were said with a great big smirk on his face. Rory blushed slightly but kept his smile. "Hope you get into Gryffindor, John," he replied. "I'm hoping for either that, or Ravenclaw," replied John.

* * *

The boats landed, and Hagrid pointed to the stairs, saying, "Ye all go up there, and wait for Professor McGonagall to take ye into t' Great Hall," before he walked off, his torch held firmly in his right hand.

The students went up the stairs as Hagrid told them and were greeted by Professor McGonagall, an elderly Scottish witch who had a stare that induced both fear and respect from all who met it, who after a few minutes, led the First Years into the massive Great Hall, where hundreds of students were sitting at four long tables.

The First Years were sent to the front, and the Sorting Hat was taken out and held above a stool. Professor McGonagall took a long roll of parchment from her robe and called out the first name.

 **There is Chapter Three done. Remember, Harry Potter and all related items and characters are owned by JK Rowling and Doctor Who and all items and characters related to it belong to the B.B.C.  
Chapter Four should be up within a few days.**


	4. The Four Houses and the Feast

"Rory Williams," Professor McGonagall called. Rory came up and sat on the stool. The moment it touched Rory's head, the Sorting Hat called out, from a tear across the brim, "Hufflepuff!" A cheer came from the members of that House as Rory walked over to the Hufflepuff table and his robe turned yellow and black, the colours of the House of Hufflepuff.

"Is it at random?" whispered Clara to Hermione. Hermione turned and said "I don't know," as another student, Martha Jones was Sorted into Ravenclaw. "Hermione Granger," called out Professor McGonagall, and the brown-haired student walked up and sat on the stool. After a couple of moments, the Hat called out, "Gryffindor!" resulting in a cheer from that House.

"Gregory Goyle," called out McGonagall, and the boy of that name walked up and was Sorted into Slytherin. "Harold Oakdown," called out McGonagall again, and a boy of twelve with short brown hair walked up and sat on the stool. "Slytherin!" called the Sorting Hat the moment it made contact with the boy's head. "Hannah Abbot," was called, and was Sorted into Hufflepuff a minute later.

"Clara Oswin Oswald," McGonagall called, and Clara nervously walked up to the stool. The Hat was placed on her head.

"Yes, yes, yes," said the Hat, which was speaking to her in her mind. "Are we talking telepathically?" thought Clara. "Yes, dear, we are," replied the Hat, and Clara sighed in relief. "Well, what is it?" asked Clara in her thoughts.

"Gryffindor!" called out the Hat, and Clara removed it and walked over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was seated. They watched together as Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Draco Malfoy, Amelia Pond, Christina de Souza, Susan Bones, Gwen Cooper, Seamus Finnegan, Harry Sullivan, Reinette de Pompadour- a student from France, and many other First Years were each Sorted. They laughed as Neville nearly ran to the Gryffindor table with the Sorting Hat still on his head.

* * *

After a while, only three students were left; John, Harry and Ron.

"Ronald Weasley" was called, and Hermione and Clara looked to see at the head of the table three older red-headed boys who looked suspiciously like Ron. "Oh dear God, there's four of them, Clara," whispered Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm… _another_ Weasley. I know JUST what to do with you….Gryffindor!"

A loud cheer came from the three red-heads, and the rest of the Gryffindors bar Hermione, and Ron decided to go sit near the two girls. "I already know what you're thinking," said Ron sarcastically. Hermione was about to protest when Clara lifted her finger and shushed just in time to see Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, walk up to the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool.

"How long has it been?" asked Clara to Ron after a few minutes. Ron turned and replied, "Only four minutes, not long enough for a hatstall." As soon as those words came out of his mouth, the Sorting Hat roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" This prompted a huge wave of applause from the Gryffindor table, with two of the older Weasleys singing "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

"John Lungbarrow-Smith," called Professor McGonagall after a full eighty seconds of waiting for the cheers to die down, and John slowly walked up to the stool with silence in the Great Hall, the leather of his black ankle-high lace-up boots creaking with each step.

"Now," loudly exclaimed the Sorting Hat to the rest of the people present in the Great Hall, "this will be very, very, very tricky."

"Would you be so kind as to explain to me how it will be tricky inside my head, please?" asked John through his thoughts. "Why, yes I will," replied the Sorting Hat via its own thoughts.

"Now then my boy Lungbarrow, you are the descendant of many a great man, all of whom I have Sorted into various Houses over the years.

"You possess a clever mind, you are very intelligent, there are spells you have learnt which you should not yet have learnt, and you are able to plan ahead. Ravenclaw could suit you down to the ground."

John beamed at this, and the other students began to get confused. "What exactly are they talking about?" asked Hermione to both Ron and Clara. "I don't know really," replied Ron quietly, "the Hat does talk to us in our thoughts."

"How about...Hufflepuff? You are extremely loyal and dedicated to your friends, and you can be a hard worker," suggested the Hat to John. John raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Really? Hufflepuff?" he replied to the Hat.

"No, no, you're right. Hufflepuff wouldn't do. They value fair play, but you'd gladly bend or break the rules to do the right thing or get your way," said the Sorting Hat, this time aloud. A soft moan came from several members of that particular House.

"Ravenclaw wouldn't do either, apparently. You possess many of the qualities for that particular House, but the other two Houses prefer qualities you have in yourself which you actively encourage.

"You are cunning, resourceful, and you could easily manipulate someone to do your own way," said the Hat, once again communicating via Legilimency. "Slytherin would be a fine fit for you, a very fine fit indeed." John sighed a nervous sigh. Lord Voldemort and many of his deluded followers came from the House of Slytherin, as did the woman who killed his grandfather.

"As for Gryffindor," said the Hat out loud again, before continuing with Legilimency, "You are brave. Very brave, daring with some courage, and a tiny little sprinkle of chivalry. You know, this could be the House you spend your time here in Hogwarts in."

"Alright then, Mr. Sorting Hat," replied John with his thoughts, "I would like to be a Gryffindor. Not a Slytherin, not a Ravenclaw, not a Hufflepuff, but a Gryffindor. Gryffindor's cool."

"Aye, yai, yai," muttered the Sorting Hat, before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat was lifted off of John's head and he literally ran over to the table as soon as the Hat was lifted off, and he jumped right next to Clara, giving her, Hermione, Ron and Harry a bit of a surprise in the process.

"Oh hello, Harry," he said as he straightened his bowtie, which was now scarlet with thin gold lines, having changed colour immediately after he was Sorted.

Harry and Ron looked at him confused. "I'm-I'm sorry, but….I don't think we met. At least I don't remember it, anyways," he said, smirking weakly.

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry," said John, placing his hand to his head and leaning down on the table before saying, "My past, and your future." Before Harry was about to say something, Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, stood up and began to speak.

"I would like to welcome all of you to the school, First Years. I will of course, mention that the Forest near the Castle is Forbidden, and Mr Filch, our Caretaker, will be patrolling the corridors at night to ensure that there are no students out of the Common Rooms. Additionally, the Third Floor Corridor is forbidden to all students.

"As well as the new students, I would also like to congratulate Professor Quirrell as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Thomas Baker, our new Astronomy Professor." He gestured first to Quirrell, a slim man with a purple turban who was speaking to another professor dressed in black, and then to Baker, who was the same man with the amazingly long scarf John, Hermione and Clara had seen on the train, but now they could see he was wearing a dark brown overcoat with burgundy upper lapels, a tartan waistcoat in green, orange and yellow, and light grey pinstriped trousers with buccaneer boots.

"Now," started Dumbledore spreading his arms, "let the feast begin." All of a sudden, food of every kind materialised on the tables, and everybody began to tuck in. John looked at what was around, licking his lips with wide eyes. Harry asked Percy Weasley, Ron's older brother and a Prefect, who the Professor in black was, and found it was "Professor Severus Snape. Head of Slytherin. He teaches Potions, but it's Defence Against the Dark Arts he wants. He's been looking for that position for nearly a decade."

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione to John. John turned and replied, "Yes, yes I am okay. Why would I not be okay? I haven't eaten in about 20 hours, there's nothing not okay about that, is there?" Worried by that comment, Hermione took an apple from a plate, placed it in his hand, and told John, "Eat it. Or else you'll go mad."

"Oh all right, Mummy," muttered John as he began to take large bites from the apple and eating it. He then left the apple core on the table, muttering "I hate apples," and reached for some fish fingers and then noticed a bowl of custard, giving him a rather strange idea.

"Why did I never think of this culinary idea before?" he said aloud to nobody in particular as he grabbed the bowl and immediately began dipping the fish fingers into the custard and eating it, an act which earned him looks from the other students sitting near him.

"Are you sure that's healthy?" asked Ron. "It's very, very good, I'll tell you that," replied John as he drank from the bowl, the custard covering his upper lip and creating a moustache. Clara, Ron, Hermione and Harry laughed at it.

John smiled and wiped it off, before taking some bread and butter and eating it as well. He then decided to drink some milk, and some yoghurt, grimacing after he finished it. "Yoghurt is just some…. stuff with fruity bits in it," he declared to Harry.

"You're a bit mad," Harry said to him, trying his best to not sound offensive, but John just simply looked up with his usual smile on his face. "It's alright, my friends told me that a lot, but they were joking of course," he replied.

Harry nodded, before asking, "What took you so long when you were wearing the Sorting Hat, by the way?" John looked up with a confused look on his face, and Clara and Hermione turned to see John as well.

"Oh, nothing really. You can remember what exactly some of the things he said, can't you?" he said, his question being rhetorical. Harry and Ron nodded. John clapped his hands together. "Now that, is good," he said, before continuing with his answer, with "I am loyal to my friends, and dedicated, and a hard worker when I want, but at the same time, I would not always follow the rules and play fairly, ruling out Hufflepuff." He paused for a moment, looking at the Slytherin table, eyeing Harold Oakdown. Clara immediately recognised him as being the boy who was eyeing her in Diagon Alley.

"So now," said John, tilting his head to the right, "where were we?" It was at this point that the food left the table to be replaced by dessert. He saw a plate of Jammy Dodgers and immediately took twenty of them and placed them onto his plate. He then looked at Professor Baker, who was staring philosophically at a jelly baby before placing it in his mouth.

"I was a hatstall for no less than twenty-two minutes, eleven seconds. The Sorting Hat considered all of the Houses for me, such as Hufflepuff, which I have already explained. It mentioned also that I had many of the traits for Slytherin, as well as Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. In the end, we both agreed that Gryffindor was where I should go. He also mentioned the fact that I have had members of my family in every one of the Houses."

Harry raised his eyebrow again, this time following up with a question immediately. "Did it mention any?" John shook his head, saying, "No, no. I know my great-uncle, Sylvester, was a Ravenclaw, and my 2nd cousin was a Slytherin."

Ron asked, a bit louder than normal voice, "Was he a Death Eater?" Hermione, Harry and Percy looked at him, shocked at his insensitivity. John looked at the ginger First Year, his eyes saying "You ask again, I will kill you."

"He was an Auror, actually, as was his father, my godfather," explained John, sighing sadly. "I never met either of them, they were off fighting during the First Wizarding War, and went off the map completely shortly after it ended. I still get Christmas presents from them sometimes."

"S-sorry," said Ron, feeling guilty. "It's okay," said John, as he chewed another Jammy Dodger slowly, "the reason they're off the map is because of some old family enemies."

The four First Years near him looked at him strangely before he decided to change the topic. After another few minutes, during which the First Years were introduced to the four House's resident ghosts (Gryffindor's was Sir Nicholas Mimsy-Porpington, or "Nearly-Headless Nick", due to a botched decapitation), Percy and three other student his age from the other Houses stood up, and led the First Years to the Common rooms.

* * *

As they walked up the steps, Percy said loudly, "Keep up, boys and girls. The staircases move." John, Ron and Hermione understood what he was talking about, but still showed surprise when they came to the staircases, which were moving all over the place.

A crash was heard and Percy and the Gryffindor First Years turned to see a suit of armour on the floor. Percy groaned and when they heard a giggle from nowhere, he placed his hand to his head, muttering "Goddamn you, Peeves. We warned you not to cause trouble."

"Who's Peeves?" asked Clara in an inquisitive tone as they followed Percy up the steps. "The school's resident Poltergeist. He's ALWAYS causing trouble, especially for Filch and the Prefects," replied Ron. Eventually, they reached a portrait with a large, overweight woman in it. "It's the Fat Lady," whispered John to the others, before continuing: "She won't let you in unless you give the correct password, so memorise it well. It changes every year, sometimes at random during the year."

"What is the password?" asked the Fat Lady in a booming voice. "Caput Draconis," said Percy with a calm voice, and the portrait magically turned left backwards, revealing the Gryffindor Common Rooms in Gryffindor Tower. John smiled, knowing that the Slytherins had the Dungeon.

The students then went up the stairs where there were several dormitories. The boys headed into one, the girls into the other. There were nine bunk-beds in the dormitory, and the boys' luggage was lying down on the beds.

John clapped his hands together, grinning. "Right then! Who's looking forward to a wonderful year at Hogwarts?" he asked nobody in particular, very loudly. He saw every hand in the room go up, including his own, excluding Harry's, who had his hand halfway raised. He noticed Harry's arm, but he said nothing, as he was excited to begin his first classes tomorrow, and desperately wanted to know what was hidden inside the Third Floor corridor. He didn't have any more time to think though, as he fell on his bed asleep as soon as he finished putting on his pyjamas.

 **Thank you to anybody who read these chapters, if you enjoyed them keep reading and if you don't…**

 **AN: This a DW/HP AU because there are elements from Doctor Who, e.g. Time Lords and incarnations of the Doctor and Master (as different people, of course), but also, the Doctor'll be involved in most of the major plot points in Harry Potter, while having his own adventures.**

 **Please write constructive reviews telling me how to improve if I'm messing up, and where I'm doing well at. If you're just trashing my story for the sake of it, well f**kity-bye, as Malcolm Tucker would say!**

 **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and Doctor Who belongs to the B.B.C.**

 **Tom Baker belongs to himself.**


	5. An Early Breakfast

It took less than three minutes for both the body and the mind of John Lungbarrow-Smith to wake up. He stretched himself, and then looked at the time. It was 5.00 in the morning. Before long, he'd be starting his first class of the Year. He knew already that Herbology, with Professor Sprout and (sadly) the Slytherins, was the first class.

* * *

By 5.15am, he was fully dressed, only having traded his black leather boots for dark brown brogues, and in the Great Hall, waiting for breakfast. He closed his eyes for around five minutes, imagining what he wanted as well as the school schedule, and all of a sudden, there were two slices of brown buttered toast with an apple and some milk on a plate in front of him. 'I should thank the house-elves,' he thought.

Hearing the doors open, he turned and saw Amelia 'Amy' Pond and Rory Williams, two of his best friends since the crèche. Amy was a Scottish redheaded girl around his age, with Rory being about two months older than John.

"Hey there, Raggedy Man," she called out, and John smiled. "How's life in Leadworth?" he asked the two of them. Amy groaned, replying "Boring as hell. How's life as a wizard going for you?" as she and Rory sat down next to him. "Okay, if it weren't for the fact that we're all split up now," said John sadly. "I mean, Amy, we're both Lions, and Rory's a badger. You're being killed to stop bovine TB for goodness' sake, Rory!" Rory smirked weakly before sarcastically laughing.

"That's the Rory I know!" he said, punching his friend softly in the arm. "So, what do we have first?" asked Rory, checking his watch. 5.32am, it said. "Herbology, with the Slytherins," John replied as he finished his toast. "Damn. I was hoping to have a class with you two," said Rory, laughing weakly. "There's always lunch, and dinner, and the inevitable rule-breaking we'll be committing at night," said Amy, sipping the apple juice that had appeared in front of her.

John pointed at her, saying in a quieter voice, "She's got a point. I mean, what _is_ in the Third Floor corridor?" Amy and Rory were just about to say something when they heard the doors open, and saw two of Ron Weasley's older brothers, the twins Fred and George.

* * *

"Hello, hello, hello," said the two infamous troublemakers together as they sauntered over to where the three First Years were sitting. "A Scottish redheaded girl, a beaky Hufflepuff, and the first hatstall Hogwarts has had in several decades!" said one of them. Rory and Amy had no idea which one was which. They both knew about the Weasley twins from other students they'd met on the train, and Amy wanted badly to meet them. She knew John did as well. Rory, well, not so much.

"Why exactly am I always called the Beak?" he said out loud in a mock-irritated tone. Years of being with Amy and John had desensitized him from insults and teasing about his larger-than-average nose.

"We couldn't help but overhear your conversation about the Third Floor corridor, so may we so kindly join in?" asked another. "Why, yes you can, Fred," said John as he drank from his goblet of milk. The twins, Amy and Rory looked at him, shocked as to how he knew which one was which. "Oh come on, you two! It isn't that hard! Fred's got longer hair than George by about a half-inch!" explained John in a slightly irritated tone.

"Wow, he's good!" exclaimed George, smiling. Fred grinned a mischievous grin. "Maybe you can help us with something we've got planned out." John grinned, this time showing his teeth. Amy smiled too. Rory smiled weakly, knowing he was outnumbered this time.

* * *

"You see, you three," said the twins, and they told them their plan, which was a prank to be performed on the Ravenclaw Prefects and Head Boy and Girl. Amy liked it. John _loved_ it and Rory had mixed feelings about it.

"What if... we get caught?" he asked worriedly. "Rory, Rory, Rory," said Fred, tutting. "They're the Masters of Antics here, Rory. They'll get all the credit, and the blame, and the detentions. The worst that could happen to us is that we're pitied by the teachers for having been manipulated by them," replied John via Legilimency.

"Stop doing that. It still scares me," said Rory to John out loud. "Okay, Rory," replied John using his mouth. "Anyway, we all love this idea. When shall it be performed?"

"Dinnertime, tonight," said Fred, before he and George both said, "Good luck, First Years," and ran out of the Great Hall. After that, the trio were silent. Then Rory said, "If this goes south, we're all gonna be buggered, aren't we?" Amy nodded, saying, "It's happened before. But has that stopped us, Raggedy Man?"

John smiled an extra-large smile, and his eyes had that glint that showed they were up to something big. "It didn't stop us then, and it sure won't stop us now."

* * *

 **AN: I see no reason for the Doctor-Pond-Williams trio to** _ **not**_ **befriend the Masters of Pranking at Hogwarts. I mean, with them around, who knows what'll happen?**

 **I predict a migraine headache for the teachers. And Filch. And Hermione. And Percy. And the other students of Hogwarts.**

 **Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.**


	6. Monday

Herbology started out okay, and John was seated next to Christina, who, truth be told, had already formed her opinions about her new classmates. "Which is?" asked John quietly. "Quite simple, really. Crabbe and Goyle are both stupid and devoted to Draco Malfoy," she whispered, pointing at the Slytherin First Year with blonde hair slicked back. "He is an egotistical prat who has inherited his father's mad worshipping of pureblood ideology. Nott is okay, but Blaise is a prick on Malfoy's level. Also, Pansy Parkinson is a snobby bitch, as far as I can tell. Bulstrode is stupid, but less so than Crabbe and Goyle. And Harold Oakdown….well, I can't tell."

"What about Jack Harkness, the Fourth Year?" he asked. Christina shuddered. "As far as I know, he's okay, but I'm sure that by the end of the year, he'll have shagged every girl and some of the boys in Sixth _and_ Seventh Year in Slytherin."

John sniggered quietly to himself. Then he remembered that Oakdown was a noble family in England, one with many black sheep, one of whom had rendered his uncle an amnesiac for several months. He silently prayed that this member would have a conscience, or at least be ashamed of his ancestors' actions.

* * *

Either way, Herbology turned out to be quite interesting, and the class afterwards was History of Magic, which every student wanted to go to, not to learn, but to make up for any lost sleep, as it was taught by Cuthbert Binns, one of the dullest, most boring teachers ever, alive _AND_ dead, for he was a ghost, having died several years ago. Even Hermione, with her love of books and knowledge, was not immune to sleep, but John was the only one who actually managed to pay attention to what Binns was saying, and didn't seem to care that the dead professor was simply droning on and on and on.

Lunch was uneventful, and Amy sat next to John, who began introducing Hermione, Clara, Harry and Ron to her in his own enthusiastic manner. "There are not enough ginger people in this school, Weasley," she said jokingly. Ron nodded, laughing.

"And you look like someone who could really put up with Bowtie here," she said sarcastically to Clara, though the sarcasm wasn't aimed at the brunette. "Oi! I told you, Amy, bowties _are_ cool!" he replied, feigning hurt.

The final class of the day was Charms, with Professor Flitwick. He was part-goblin, which could be deduced by his small stature and his pronounced nose and ears. Due to this heritage, he was accepting of all creeds and despised discrimination.

"All right! Come on, come on!" he yelled at the students from his pile of books. The First Years stopped messing about and looked at him. Flitwick smiled. "Today, class, is your first Charms class with me. So, I will make it easier for you, for you will not be performing any practical spells in your first four classes with me. Instead, you will be learning theory. Everybody take out your textbooks and begin reading."

Charms class was interesting, as Flitwick had squealed and fallen off his stack of books when he saw Harry Potter's name on the register. The students also discovered that Flitwick was laid-back, humorous, and rarely deducted points for anything, even tardiness and/or practical jokes.

* * *

After Charms, everybody began to head back to their dorms. John was near the back of the crowd of Gryffindors when he heard a whistle in his head. Turning round, he saw Harold Oakdown, smiling at him menacingly. He had in his hand a paper aeroplane, which he threw to John, who managed to catch it. He straightened it out into a piece of paper, and he felt a metaphorical punch in the belly.

 _Your father knocked four times, Chin Boy,_ the letter said. John crumpled it up, his veins visible on his hands in anger, as he marched his way up the stairs.

At the dorms, everybody changed out of their school robes into more casual clothing. For Harry, his hand-me-downs that were a size too large for him, thanks to his fat cousin Dudley. Ron had second-hand clothes as well, and John was dressed in the brogues and a pair of navy blue jeans held up by dark red braces, a dress shirt with red stripes, a brown Donegal tweed blazer and a dark red bowtie.

"Tweed blazer _and_ a bowtie? You have to be a pureblood, Lungbarrow!" exclaimed Ron when John walked out. John stopped dead in his tracks, raised his hand to his chest and shook them, saying, "No! No! My blood's too tainted for that. This is my taste in fashion, and it is exquisite!"

"Tainted?" said Ron quizzically, but the boy in the bowtie waved him off, explaining "I don't believe in that blood purity stuff. Squibs exist for a reason y'know, and it isn't because of blood purity." As he said this, he took a box out of his trousers. It was a chess set.

"You play chess?" asked Hermione. "Yep," replied John as he set up the set on a table. "I have two of them in fact-A Muggle chess set and a wizarding chess set. This is the Muggle chess set." Clara looked up at him from her book. It was _'The Time Traveller's Wife'_. "I see no reason for me to play, Chin Boy," she called out, returning to her book.

"Oi! It's not that big!" he said loudly, grabbing it in his hand and turning to her on the couch. "Careful, you may poke my eye out," she replied, the corners of her mouth turned up. "Are-are you _flirting_ with him?" called out Amy in a shocked voice from the chair near the fireplace. She was looking at her camera, which John had enchanted to make it able to work in Hogwarts.

"No," answered back Clara sheepishly before she shut herself off from the rest of the world into her book, not saying another word as John and Seamus Finnegan sat down to play a game of chess, with the result at the end being a draw.

 **Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, Harry Potter to J.K. Rowling.**

 **Also, to fanfiction author Lily, yes, you can do a Russian translation of this. Just ensure to give myself credit, as well as the rightful owners of these two franchises.**


	7. The Rest of the Week and Severus Snape

As it happened, the rest of the week was so-so-so-so-so, as John had rather eloquently phrased it when they all arrived back at the common rooms on Friday.

Everybody had formed their opinion of the caretaker, Argus Filch, rather quickly. He was a small old man who loved finding excuses to punish the students, especially if they were out at night. He did get along with the Prefects, though, as they shared a common hatred for Peeves. Somehow, Rory Williams had succeeded in gaining the friendship of Slytherin's ghost, the Bloody Baron, who was the only one able to control the poltergeist. This gave Rory some degree of protection.

Thankfully, there was only one History of Magic class per week, which saved everybody a large amount of sanity. DADA (Defence Against the Dark Arts) was held on Tuesday, after Herbology. Everybody was, for some reason or other, looking forward to this class, bar Neville, but it turned out to be a bit of a joke.

Quirrell had explained that his purple turban had been given to him by an African prince after he had gotten rid of a zombie during his year-long voyage around the world, though this explanation puzzled John, who murmured quietly to himself "What is a zombie doing in Africa?". The rest of the class had trouble believing that story too. The classroom reeked of garlic, which was allegedly due to a vampire in Romania. The turban smelled funny, and the Weasley twins said it was probably stuffed with garlic as well.

* * *

At midnight on Wednesdays, Astronomy was held. Mr Baker grinned a toothy grin as everybody walked into the classroom. This first class was relatively simple, just spot the planets and identify them. "The first three students to find all the planets and Pluto each get a bag of jelly babies," he then proclaimed, and needless to say, John and Hermione were among the three students, as was Oakdown.

There were three Herbology classes per week. They were taught by Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House. Transfiguration was held twice a week; one class on Wednesday, the other on Thursday. Professor McGonagall was this class's Professor, and demonstrated her ability to terrify students without even trying to do so within seconds of everybody sitting down.

"Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous and complex magic any of you will learn at Hogwarts. Anybody messing in my class will leave and not come back. You have all been warned."

After taking notes, she gave everybody a match, saying they were to turn it into a needle. By the end of it, John had, at least, managed to turn it from a wood match to silver, with Hermione actually getting it right.

Flying lessons usually took place on a Thursday at 3.30pm, but the class had to wait. Everyone looked forward to flying, though. "I once flew from The Giant's Causeway to the Black Forest on a broom," said John to Ron when they walked out of Transfiguration. "It was supposed to be to Jersey." This caused several of the other students to laugh, and Clara shook her head. She found John more and more weird and interesting by the day.

There was only one subject on Friday, and it was a double class of Potions, taught by Severus Snape. Every First Year in Gryffindor was dreading this class, and the fear intensified when they were told the Slytherins were also going to be in it. Snape, it seemed, hated Gryffindor House and favoured the Slytherins, which he was Head of.

John, not unlike Amy and Clara, noticed Harry's owl, Hedwig, fly in that morning with a letter, which she rarely did. John thought of walking off and asking him what it was, but decided against it.

* * *

"Anybody else feel the evil in the room?" Amy had asked loudly when everybody was in the dungeon the class was taught in, prompting snickering from the Gryffindors and sneers from the Slytherins. John just smiled to himself and sat down next to Clara.

Severus Snape walked into the classroom. He was thin, with a sallow face and long greasy black hair. As usual, he was dressed in black robes and clothing, though underneath he had a dirty white shirt with dark purple cravat. He sat down at the desk and immediately began taking the register, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry Potter's name.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he murmured, "our new…. _celebrity_." He then finished the names and closed the register before standing up and slowly patrolling the classroom, every student's gaze fixed upon him.

"There will be NO foolish wand-waving or incantation-shouting in this class. As such, many of you will hardly believe that this, the subtle art and exact science that is Potion-making, is magic. I do not expect many of you to really understand the beauty, of the softly simmering cauldron, with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses."

He paused for a quick moment, glancing for a moment at Malfoy before continuing: "I can teach you how to brew glory, bottle fame-even put a stopper on Death…that is, unless you are all as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually teach." Professor Snape stopped both walking and his speech in front of Harry's desk, and stared at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Mister Potter." The deep voice emanated from Snape's thin mouth, and Harry looked up immediately. Snape's cold face greeted his eyes. John looked around and saw Malfoy smile. John remembered that he had convinced the twins to switch their targets to Slytherin House and at dinner on Friday, to grant time to plan an even better joke. He told himself inside to say nothing.

"Mr. Potter, do tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion, of wormwood?" Snape asked, confident in his belief that Potter would not know the answer. Hermione shot her hand up, but Snape ignored her. Malfoy continued to smile, and his two gorilla henchmen were smiling too.

"I…I don't know, sir," answered Harry. Snape's lips turned into a sneer. "A pity. Clearly, Mr. Potter, fame isn't everything." John frowned, his face showing irritation. Snape surely knew that Harry was raised by Muggles and was humiliating him here on purpose.

"Let us try again. Potter, where would you find a bezoar if I told you to go look for one?" Snape's sneer was less pronounced, and John could see Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle hold in their laughter. He decided to use his old 'mind trick', as Rory had christened his rather advanced Legilimency methods, to help Harry now that he had answered another "I don't know."

Hermione's hand was still up in the air. Snape continued to ignore her, and it looked like it would drive her mad.

"What is the difference, Mr. Potter, between wolfsbane and monkshood?"

John finally used his skill and gave Harry the answer. Two days ago, he'd done it with Harry by accident, and told him to expect it to be used again.

Truth be told, Harry answered correctly. "Wolfsbane and monkshood, sir, are the same plant, aconite." Snape's eyes widened at this, but then returned to their usual narrowness. "Well done, Mr. Potter. I thought you'd probably decided not to look into your Potions textbook. As for the first two questions though…..a bezoar is a stone taken from a goat's stomach and will save you from most poisons. And powdered root of asphodel and wormwood create a sleeping potion that is so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death." He looked around. "Well? Why are none of you copying that down?" John smiled to himself.

* * *

The class went downhill from that point. The students were paired off, Amy going with Clara and John with Hermione. Snape had told them to make a simple potion to cure boils. He walked around the room, seeing snake fangs being crushed and criticising everybody except Malfoy, who he seemed to like. John had good reason to suspect nepotism.

"Everyone, look here. Mr. Malfoy is stewing the horned slugs correctly _and_ perfectly…" Snape said, but was interrupted by a loud hissing sound and clouds of acid green smoke filling the dungeon. Neville, paired with Seamus Finnegan, had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron and was drenched in their potion, which was now seeping across the floor. Within a matter of seconds, everybody was standing on their stools to prevent the potion from burning holes in their shoes.

"Idiot boy," snarled Snape angrily as he cleared the potion away with a wave of his wand. Telling Seamus to bring a boil-covered Neville to the hospital wing, he then rounded on the two students working next to Seamus and Neville-Harry and Ron. Within a minute, he had taken a point from Gryffindor.

"I think he likes you, Harry," said John with a hint of sarcasm in his voice an hour later, as they all walked up to the common rooms. Harry sighed, his spirit low. In one day, his first week, he'd lost a point for Gryffindor and was heading the least favourite list for at least one teacher.

"You needn't worry Harry. He does that to the Masters of Antics (Fred and George) all the time. Though be careful if you're in the corridor and Filch runs into you at night. He will show no mercy," explained Amy. John raised an eyebrow curiously. "And how would you know about Filch?"

"Um…well, last night….Got to go, bye!" And with that, she was off. Clara was confused. "Why did she run off?" John's face went pink slightly. "Well, she thought for quite a while that Rory was gay. And she found out the opposite was true over the summer. And that he's had a huge crush on her since we were around five. Rory told me that he'd like me to give them room as they try-well, he tries- to be a couple."

Clara tried to hold in her laughter. Then she turned to Harry and asked, in a not-completely-polite form, what his letter said. "Oh, that was just Hagrid. He invited me to his hut around three. Do you two want to come?" John nodded on behalf of himself and Clara, saying, "Yes please, Harry."

* * *

At around five to three, they went down to Hagrid's hut, which was near the Forbidden Forest. Harry was in jeans and a red sweater, Ron in a t-shirt, Clara in a dark blue sleeveless cardigan and paisley skirt, and John wearing a navy bowtie, suspenders, socks and a dress shirt with navy blue stripes. His shoes were dark burgundy lace-up Jodhpurs, and he had a dark green moleskin overcoat on instead of a tweed jacket.

They could hear Hagrid shouting and a dog barking inside the hut as they walked towards it, and the Keeper of Keys then opened the door and stuck his head out of it. "Hang on a minute- _Back_ , Fang!" He opened the door and let the foursome in, struggling to keep a hold of Fang, an enormous black boarhound.

Hagrid's hut had only one room, with a giant bed covered by a patchwork quilt sitting in the corner, hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling and a kettle made of copper hanging over an open fire. "This is Ron, that's Clara, and this is John," Harry said, gesturing to all of them. John had taken off his overcoat and put it on a stand, revealing that there was nothing in between his shirt and the overcoat.

Hagrid turned from where he was pouring boiling water into a teapot and serving rock cakes on a plate, looked the redhead. " _Another_ Weasley, eh?" he said, glancing at the freckles and hair. "You should know I've spent half me life tryin' to chase yer Twin brothers from the Forbidden Forest. And your family members before ya have been triple the trouble of them and the Marauders put together, Lungbarrow! Anyway, how's the family?"

John frowned, then closed his eyes, thinking to himself for a moment before asking everyone, "How about we tell you about our first week?"

Hagrid acted like he didn't notice John changing the topic. "Okay then, tell me how it went for ye!"

Harry, Ron and Clara told them about their first week whilst eating Hagrid's rock cakes (they were terrible, but they pretended to like them), and John told what Christina had said about her classmates, causing the other four to laugh out loud.

"I feel sorry for yer experiences with that old git, Filch," Hagrid said, delighting the four first years. "I'd like ter introduce that cat, Mrs. Norris, to Fang some time."

Like Ron, Hagrid told Harry to not worry about Snape, Clara agreeing. "Snape barely likes any of the students, even from his own House."

"Yes, but he seemed to really hate me, Hagrid."

"That's nonsense. Why exactly would he?" Harry couldn't help but think that Hagrid didn't fully meet his eyes when he said that. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see John holding a newspaper cut-out.

"Harry, were you at Gringotts on the 31st of July?" he asked, showing him the article contained in the cut-out. "Yes, I was," said Harry, amazed. "That break-in Ron was talking about happened the day me and Hagrid went to Gringotts to get money for my wizarding equipment."

"Okay, just needed to know."

"Hagrid, that break-in at Gringotts happened the day we went there. Maybe it happened while we were there!"

Hagrid definitely didn't look in in the eyes this time, merely grunting and handing both him and John another rock cake. The four students then walked back to the castle with pockets filled with rock cakes they were too polite to refuse.

Harry had questions on his mind. _Why did Hagrid change the subject about Snape? And say nothing about the break-in at Gringotts?_

For Clara, the questions were different. _John deliberately changed the subject when Hagrid asked about his family. Does he have one? Is he ashamed of them? Why did he avoid the question?_

One thing the two agreed on, however, was that they had had more time to think than any of their classes over the past week.

* * *

 **AN: Apologies for the wait. The next chapter should be up by the end of next week hopefully. And apologies for this being the second-longest chapter so far.**

 **Also, John's extra-curricular costume in this chapter is what he wore for most of Series 6.**


	8. Flying

"Ron, I never thought in all my life that I could ever meet someone that I hated even more than my cousin Dudley, but that was before I went into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ , and met Draco Malfoy," said Harry the following Monday as they walked back to the Gryffindor common rooms the following Monday. Ron sniffed, then said, "The Malfoy family have always been pricks, Harry. They integrated themselves into Muggle high society before the Secrecy Statute, and when that was passed they acted like they'd never go near a Muggle with a 100-foot pole. They love power, but they love it more when there's a puppet for them."

"What about you and Oakdown, John?" asked Harry to John. John turned and simply said, eyes not blinking once, "Our families have a rather long rivalry."

They were the first ones up in the common room, and as a result were the first ones to see the notice. "Aw, damn it," moaned Ron, "We're having flying lessons with the _Slytherins_. I was looking forward to that class!"

John and Harry groaned loudly as well, as did the rest of the First Years when they reached the common rooms. Everyone had been looking forward to the flying lessons, but now that they would be taught with the Slytherins, everyone was unhappy-especially Harry, who was hoping that he wouldn't be making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

Neville had never been on a broomstick before, and Harry and John weren't surprised, as he already had enough accidents with his feet on the ground. They made sure not to mention this in front of him.

"Cheer up, Neville," said Rory on Tuesday after classes were over, "You look like you'll be a much better flyer than myself. I flew into the Whomping Willow first time I got on a broomstick here." That did not lighten his spirits.

Clara was nervous. She never really liked heights, so she felt terrified at the prospect of flying on a piece of wood only a few inched wide.

Hermione was nervous as well. Flying on a broomstick was something you could not learn through books, but she still read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ at breakfast, boring Harry, Amy, Ron and John senseless. Clara and Neville, on the other hand, listened intently to Hermione's every syllable, trying to get advice that would allow them to fly without killing themselves.

* * *

"Okay, so you hate Malfoy, Harry, I hate Oakdown, and Ron, who is your least favourite Snake?" asked John when they were walking down to the practise field. "Zabini," replied Ron, after some contemplation. "Crabbe and Goyle have the collective intelligence of a troll."

"For me, it's Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione.

"I have a very good reason to believe that Daphne Greengrass is the Devil's Daughter," said Clara, throwing in her own two cents, noticing that John's hair seemed to be an inch shorter at the back and a shade lighter brown.

Everyone gave their response to that question, and they had all been covered by the time the Gryffindors had reached the practise lawn. The Slytherins were already there, as were thirty-six broomsticks laid out neatly on the lawn (she had to split the two classes to better control them).

"Well, allo, allo, allo-ooh, look, Madam Hooch is here now!" called out John, looking at the grey-haired woman with yellow, hawk-like eyes arrive. "Well? What are you all waiting for? Stand near a broomstick!"

Luckily for John, he got a newer one. Harry's looked old, with some of the twigs sticking out. Oakdown also got an older broomstick.

"Now," called out Madam Hooch, "Stick your right hand over your broom, like so," as she demonstrated how to do this, "and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" shouted the students. Harry's, John's, Oakdown's and Malfoy's were the only broomsticks that actually went up and touched their palms on the first try. Hermione's simply rolled over. Now, they were hovering motionlessly above the ground, waiting to be mounted.

"Now, how to mount your brooms without sliding off the end," stated Madam Hooch. She checked everybody and when she told Malfoy that he had doing it wrong for years, Harry, Ron, John and Amy couldn't help but laugh.

"Now, listen up," she called out, her voice raised a decibel. "When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet-let's say, 5 or 6, and then come straight back down by simply leaning forwards slight. Now, on my whistle-three,-two-"

Before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch's lips, Neville had pushed off the ground hard, and was rising straight up like a cork that had been shot out of a bottle.

"Twelve feet-twenty feet-twenty-five feet," called out John, his eyes fixated on the Longbottom boy, his face pale white. "Don't look down, Neville, please don't…." said John quietly.

He looked down, he gasped, he slipped off of the broomstick, which continued to rise higher and higher and higher before it began to lazily drift towards the Forbidden Forest and out of everyone's view.

 _WHAM!_ -Neville was on the ground, face down, on the grass in a heap. John immediately ran over to him, and checked him using his hands from head to toe. Madam Hooch's face was as white as Neville's, which was tear-streaked.

"Just a broken wrist, Madam Hooch, his left one-and two cracked ribs, one on each side," said John to the flying instructor. He saw her nod, and walked off when she waved her arm at him, telling him silently to join his classmates. "Come on, boy, up you get," she said to Neville as she helped him up.

"No-one is to fly while I take this boy up to the hospital wing. If any of you so much as move an inch, you'll be out of here before you can say 'Quidditch'," she told the rest of the class before she walked to the castle with Neville, who was hobbling and had Madam Hooch's arm around him.

As soon as the two were out of earshot, Malfoy, his two gorilla henchmen and Oakdown began to burst into laughter. "Did anybody see the lump's face?" asked Oakdown, smiling. "How in the name of Merlin did _he_ end up here?" added Malfoy, and the rest of the Slytherins joined in. Clara saw Christina, who was laughing lightly. 'She's just laughing because everyone else is,' she thought to herself. 'She doesn't find Neville's accident funny at all. And frankly, neither do we.'

"Malfoy, Oakdown, shut up. It's not funny," said Parvati Patil, voicing the Gryffindor students' thoughts perfectly.

"Ooh, are we sticking up for Longbottom, Patil? I never thought that you'd be one to fall in love with big fat cry-babies," jeered Parkinson. "Ooh, cheap insults, Parkinson. You're very intelligent," called out Clara sarcastically.

Parkinson marched over to the little girl in Gryffindor and before they could fight, Malfoy called out, "Look! It's that stupid thing that Longbottom's gran sent him!"

Oakdown walked over and looked at the object, saying, "A Remembrall- As if that'll help him." "Malfoy, Oakdown, give it here," said John in a slow voice, walking slowly towards them with his right palm stretched out.

"Or what? You'll choke us with that stupid bowtie of yours?" called out Malfoy. John merely glared at him, venom in his eyes. "I know things you don't Malfoy. I know how to brew Wolfsbane Potion, I could easily turn your two puppets into frogs."

"Malfoy, give it, now," said Harry, including himself.

Oakdown was starting to get tired of the banter, and had snatched the Remembrall from Malfoy. "I think, my friend, we should leave this thing somewhere for Longbottom to find it-how about, up in that tree?" he said smiling, looking at Harry and John.

Malfoy had by now hopped onto his broomstick and was now hovering at the top branch of the oak tree. He wasn't lying-he _could_ fly. Oakdown looked at him for a moment, then at Harry, then at John, then back to Malfoy, before throwing it at the airborne Slytherin, prompting Harry to jump on his broomstick and get into the air.

"Hermione, don't!" said John to the frizzy-haired girl, as she was about to protest, "He'll only ignore you." The students then watched Harry fly up and soar, seeing him realise he had found something he could do without being taught.

"Seamus, to be paid by the 5rd of November, 10 galleons if Harry ends up on the Quidditch team," said John. "Alright. Deal. The first time I've placed a bet before. You placed bets?" Finnegan asked. "At least six times," replied John, watching Harry and Malfoy's aerial battle. John was reminded of the dogfights by planes during World War One, and then saw that no matter how well he flew, Harry would not be able to get Malfoy to let go of Neville's Remembrall. So he took matters into his own hands.

* * *

Raising his wand and aiming for Malfoy, he flicked his wrist slightly whilst saying an incantation slightly, and a white bolt shot from his wand, hitting Malfoy square in the side and causing him to throw the Remembrall up twenty feet above him, before he grabbed onto his broomstick again and flew back towards the ground. Everybody then watched as the Remembrall went up and then began to fall back down to earth.

Harry slowly began to descend, picking up speed, and before anyone knew it, he was racing to the ground, racing the ball, and he stretched his hand out and caught it a foot from the ground, managing to pull his broom straight, and toppling gently onto the grass with the Remembrall still clutched within his fist. He heard his classmates from Gryffindor cheering for him.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

Professor McGonagall was running down to the students, and she was furious. Malfoy, Oakdown and Malfoy's thugs grinned. John and Ron looked worried. Either Harry would be expelled, or he'd lose Gryffindor House a third of all the points gained so far.

"Never-in all of my years at Hogwarts," they heard her grumble. She took Harry, who still had Neville's Remembrall, and they walked towards the castle.

"Well, well, well," said Malfoy gloatingly when they'd gone, "Potter's really in for it now, isn't he?"

"Yes, I agree so much," added Oakdown, smirking, "but it could have been so much worse for him."

"I agree with you there, Harold," responded Malfoy smirking, who then glanced at John. "He could have heard some old fool knocking four times and died."

No sooner had those words left Malfoy's mouth than he felt a fist from John collide with his left cheek, and was knocked to the ground, causing everybody to gasp, before John went and picked him up, and dragged him to the tree, pinning him to the trunk.

"Now, listen here, _Draco_ ," started John in a louder-than-usual voice, seething with rage, and his eyes filled with anger.

"If you ever say anything like that about my mother or father again, or even _think_ it, I will write a letter, send it to the Ministry, and by the time Hallowe'en comes round, your father will be in Azkaban and the only bit of money you'll have left will be a single Knut lying on its own in Gringotts, your family name ruined forever.

"Don't even think about telling your father about this, either-I'll send the letter to him and the Ministry, then. Understand?"

Malfoy nodded, his mouth open, his face paler than usual. Everybody present thought John was harmless, non-threatening, and weird. Today, they had just learnt how wrong they were.

And Clara began wondering about him even more. John Lungbarrow-Smith was a true enigma, a book that was written in some ancient language nobody spoke anymore, that was wide open. Thus, nobody really understood him. Harry was easy to read, on the contrary.

Either way, the flying class ended as uninterestingly as it had begun, and everyone separated upon entering the common rooms, Ron wondering what had happened to Harry, and Hermione hoping no points were lost.

 **The eighth chapter finally completed! I had to have Draco get punched by our favourite Lungbarrow, seeing as how the Master is already an enemy and used to him.**

 **Also, John may seem OOC considering he is the Eleventh Doctor, but 11 was a very emotional person, and quite ruthless when he wished.**

 **Doctor Who-BBC**

 **Harry Potter-J.K. Rowling**


	9. Run Around the Castle

Ron and John saw Harry again at dinnertime in the Great Hall, and Clara, sitting near Amy, had noticed that John's hair was back to its usual length, though it was the same shade of brown it had been at the Quidditch field. Ron was the first to notice Harry, and immediately asked him what McGonagall wanted with him.

"Well, she took Oliver Wood out of Flitwick's Charms class, and she said she'd found him a Seeker. Wood was really happy, and began setting up a schedule for training me," explained Harry quietly. John, drinking apple juice from his goblet, nearly choked when Harry explained, and Ron simply had a piece of steak-and-kidney pie halfway to his mouth.

"Seeker?" whispered John, shocked. "You're eleven! You're probably the youngest House Seeker in a century! Maybe even more!" Harry nodded. "That's what Wood said. I'm to start training next week, but please keep it a secret." John and Ron looked at Harry, then one another, and silently crossed their hearts.

"The twins are entering the Great Hall," said John to the rest of the First Years that were nearby, and the moment the two redheaded pranksters entered the hall, all the school staff gazed at them, not blinking, terrified of whether they had any new ideas. When they stopped at Harry, they resumed their conversations with one another.

"Hello, new Seeker, well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team as well-Beaters. Fred added, "We're going to win the Quidditch Cup for sure this year. We haven't since our dear brother Charlie left. You'd better be good, Harry. When Wood told us, he was pretty much skipping with delight."

"Anyways, we've got to go," they said together. "Lee Jordan reckons that he's found a new secret passageway." And together they ran off, the Professors watching them leave with dread.

"Well, that was informative," said Harry, but he couldn't say more as John reached over and tapped his shoulder, saying, "The gorilla-trainer has brought his apes."

The gorilla trainer was an unhappy Malfoy, and the gorillas were his two henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy got rid of the unhappy look, quickly replacing it with confidence, and walked up to the three boys, though his eyes told John that he was still scared of him.

"You having a last meal, Potter? I thought that you'd be home with the Muggles by now," he said. "You seem a lot braver now with both your feet on the ground and your two friends with you," replied Harry coolly.

"I could take you on any time on my own without help, but could you? The reason you caught that Remembrall in the first place is because Lungbarrow here hit me with a spell," said Malfoy. A few seconds' pause followed, then "Tonight, in the trophy room, you and me, wizards' duel, wands only-no contact." John looked at Ron.

"I'll be Harry's second," said the young Weasley, "and who will yours be?"

Malfoy turned around, sizing up Crabbe and Goyle. He settled on Crabbe. "I think midnight will be a good enough time, don't you?" he said. Harry nodded weakly, Ron a bit harder. "Good," said Malfoy, "see you there." And he and his goons then slithered away.

"Excuse me boys, while I take care of a little something," said John anxiously, rising from his seat and walking quickly around the table, grabbing Clara's hand, and practically dragging her out of the Great Hall, though nobody noticed.

"Clara, I need you," started John. Clara looked at him, confused. "Oh…kay," she said slowly, but John managed to realise his mistake in not properly explaining to him.

"Listen, I have reason to believe that Malfoy is setting up Harry and Ron, alright?"

Clara's eyes widened slightly. She had overheard the prat talking about a 'wizard's duel', but she hadn't really suspected that it was a trap.

"Hermione's going to try and talk them out of it and fail, right?" asked Clara rhetorically. John nodded, a half-hearted smirk on his face. "Yep, so what we'll do tonight is try and distract Filch and his damn cat, so that it'll take longer for him to reach Harry and Ron, and thus giving them some time to escape.

"That….is a very poorly thought out plan that almost certainly will not work," said Clara in a matter-of-fact tone. John nodded, saying "I agree. Which is why I love it."

* * *

At 10.30pm, at the exact same moment, John and Clara both got out of bed, got dressed in suitable clothes (for her, a black leather jacket, blouse and black jeans with black knee-high socks and Mary-Janes. For him, a light blue dress shirt with dark blue bowtie, the uniform trousers, and a dark green checked Harris Tweed blazer with slip-on paddock boots) and snuck into the common-room.

"This will work, right?" she asked him quietly, not failing to notice his hair was now jet-black. "Better than the prank on the Slytherins," he said in a quieter voice, smiling. She rolled her eyes. "How original that prank was, too. Having _live_ African rock pythons come out of all the pies."

"Shush!" he said quietly, placing a finger to her lips. "Good. Remember, the password's 'pig snout' now." Clara nodded and together, the two students snuck out of the common-room, and noticed (to their delight) that the Fat Lady was still there.

Then they heard a slight whimpering noise, barely audible. They turned and saw it was Neville, his knees at his chest. "Neville?" Clara whisper-shouted. Neville looked up at the two. "I've been here for hours. I've forgotten the password, and the Bloody Baron's been around once already."

"It's 'pig snout'. Repeat it in your head, it always helps for me," said John, smiling. Neville smiled weakly, got up, and said to the Fat Lady, "Pig snout". She opened, and Neville walked in, giving John and Clara a thumbs-up. They returned the gesture.

"You ready to begin, Clara Oswin Oswald?" John asked her, smiling. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied with a smirk, and together they went off and began exploring the school halls and corridors, making sure to clap quickly every so often before quickly running off and hiding from Filch and Mrs. Norris.

The first time that Filch nearly saw them was near the Ravenclaw Tower at around five to eleven, when John accidentally tripped and knocked over a suit of armour. They only just managed to escape his and Mrs. Norris's sights.

The second time, they were caught, but John managed to convince him they were lost, and had spent the past three hours looking for the Gryffindor Tower. He believed them, and merely let them off with a warning.

* * *

Eventually, after more than an hour of running around getting Filch's attention, they were at the trophy room, and Filch was scouring the Great Hall looking for them. Clara was giggling silently, and John was panting slightly, chuckling.

"That," said Clara, having regained her composure, "was probably one of the most fun nights I've ever had in my life! You do this often?" John grinned and straightened his bowtie. "Oh, all the time, Clara Oswin Oswald, all the time. Me and Amy and Rory would always sneak out of the house at night and go exploring the ruined castle, or sometimes the forest." Clara smiled. She was impressed by him, and she had had so much fun! She wanted to do this again sometime, and she knew that he knew.

"What time is it, anyway?" he asked her, his face now confused and slightly scared. "It is now," started Clara as she took out her watch, "12.01am."

"Okay, Harry and Ron are bound to be inside," said John, as he took out his wand. He slowly opened the door, hearing it creak, then he and Clara entered the room. They gasped at all the items guarded behind the crystal trophy-cases, the shields, the statues, they were all so magnificent.

They then both stood still and silent for a minute, managing to pick up the sound of three people breathing in the room. They walked slowly towards the halfway point of the room, and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione, each dressed in their pyjamas and a dressing-gown.

"Pink's a bit too cliché, Hermione," said John. Hermione looked at her dressing-gown and rolled her eyes, asking, "And what are you two doing here?" Clara smiled and began explaining.

"Well, we figured that Malfoy set you up, so we've spent the past hour having Filch chase us, so that, by the time he _does_ get here, which would most likely be in…." She paused to look at her watch. "In about twenty minutes, we'll be long gone."

"Oh…..kay," said John awkwardly. Silence followed, before John said quickly and worriedly, "We'd better get out of here….I can hear Filch climbing up the nearest staircase as we speak." The other four quickly glanced at the door where they had all come in, pupils wide in horror, and quickly ran to the door at the opposite end of the room, opening the door and speeding through.

"I know where to go, come on!" said John, running to where Harry was (at the front), and leading the students into a hidden passageway that came out near the Charms classroom.

"Harry, Ron," said Clara, "you do know that Malfoy tipped off the git, right?" Ron and Harry looked at her and nodded. They were panting. "I'm feeling a bit tired now," said Ron, opening his mouth to yawn, but John quickly covered his (John's) mouth with a finger.

Luckily, Ron managed to yawn silently. Hermione sighed, and said, "Let's go, come on." The quintet then walked more slowly this time, in case Filch could hear them, but they heard a doorknob rattle and something shoot out of the Charms classroom. It was Peeves, and Clara managed to catch sight of him.

"Hide, quickly," she said in a quiet voice. The others turned around and did so. The Poltergeist looked around for a while, but found nothing, before leaving for the Potions classroom. The First Years sighed, relieved. But then, he shouted "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!" and as soon as they heard Filch's footsteps approaching, and they took off again.

This time, they ran right to the end of a different corridor, which had a door that was locked. "He's getting closer," whispered Ron, scared. Hermione quickly took Harry's wand and placed it at the door, saying "Alohomora!", causing the door to unlock and open, allowing the five students to swiftly enter.

"Clara, can you tell me why you're grabbing my dressing-gown?" asked Harry as he turned around to see why she was doing so.

* * *

He wished he hadn't.

Right in front of them, a massive three-headed dog, which by the looks of it, appeared to have been taken by surprise by their sudden entrance, with all six of its creamy-coloured eyes looking at them. Now, however, it was getting over the initial surprise and growling.

"We're in the forbidden corridor," said John, panting lightly, his skin paler, out of fear. "We're in the forbidden corridor on the Third Floor."

Harry's pupils widened in horror. He grabbed for the doorknob-he would pick Filch over death by three-headed dog any day. The quintet fell backwards, Harry and Clara slamming the door shut together, and then everyone ran as fast as they could away from the door. Filch was gone, probably looking for them in some other part of the school, but they didn't care-they just wanted to place as much space between them and that creature as possible. Eventually, they reached the Seventh Floor, outside the Gryffindor entrance. The Fat Lady was there too, clearly having returned from a visit to another painting.

"Where have you lot been?" she asked, looking at their flush, panting faces. "Never mind that-Pig snout, pig snout," puffed John. The portrait opened and they rushed in and fell on the armchairs and sofa, not speaking for several minutes. Indeed, it was a while before anyone spoke.

"What do the teachers think that they're doing, keeping that thing in there? If any dog needs some exercise, it's _that_ one," said Ron finally, in a rather poor attempt at easing any tension. John was the second to say something, as he scrambled to his feet, out of his thinking pose.

"Did anyone happen to look at the floor where that thing was standing?" he asked, pointing at his feet to emphasise his point. Harry shook his head, replying "No, John. I was too busying looking at his heads."

Hermione sighed in an annoyed manner. "Not its feet, but where it was standing. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's clearly guarding something."

John smiled, and looked at Hermione. "You're right Hermione, you're right! The real mystery however, is _what_ it is guarding. But I can always sleep on it. Goodnight." With that, he quickly but quietly ran up to the dormitory, taking his jacket off whilst doing so.

Hermione then stood up and glared at the remaining two boys. "We could have been killed, or worse, expelled. I hope you're happy with yourselves. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." Clara followed.

John and Hermione had given Harry something to think about. "There's no safer place than Gringotts, except maybe Hogwarts," Hagrid had said on his birthday to him when they had gotten the money to buy Harry's school things and the item from vault 713.

As he lied in bed, Harry realised that that must have been what was under the trapdoor. He'd have to tell John in the morning.

* * *

 **Don't forget to review! Seriously, this only has 6 reviews and has been up since September! I need to know whether I'm writing this well or not!**

 **Harry Potter-JK Rowling**

 **Doctor Who-BBC**


	10. Nimbus Two Thousand and Fireside Comfort

By the next morning, Ron, Clara, Harry and John were convinced that the events of last night were a wonderful adventure. Hermione, however, was probably not going to talk to either of them ever again, which was a bonus for Ron and Harry, who also told the others of the package.

"Interesting. So we have one piece of the mystery solved. However, why would someone want to move it from Gringotts to here, Hogwarts?" said John as they walked down the stairs to the Great Hall for breakfast. His waistcoat was now a dark grey with lapels.

"It could be very valuable, or it could be really dangerous," added in Ron. John nodded, agreeing. Clara silently agreed too. "That, or it's both," said Harry, slightly nervously.

* * *

As it happened, they were right about Hermione, and now Clara was the only person she'd regularly socialise with out of the four. This left the main thing that Harry and Ron had on their minds as 'payback on Malfoy'.

They didn't have long to wait, for a week later, on Friday, when the owls came in delivering mail as usual, six large screech owls came in with a long parcel, catching everybody's attention. John noticed how Dumbledore and McGonagall didn't seem that surprised.

'They must have given Harry a broomstick for his position as Seeker,' he thought to himself. When Harry read out the letter attached to it to him and Ron (Clara was with Amy, clearly sharing embarrassing things about him (John)), his thoughts were confirmed.

What he didn't expect was the broomstick to be a Nimbus Two Thousand.

"I've never even touched one," said Ron in awe. "We should wait until we're in the common room to open it. And good luck on your training," said John quietly. Harry nodded.

As it happened, they ran into Draco and his two bodyguards whilst carrying it up the stairs. Draco then seized the broomstick.

"You're in for it this time, Potter! You know that First Years can't have broomsticks!" he sneered. Ron was about to say something when John said, quite loudly, "Is it now? I had no idea! Harry, I thought you said it was a….a….."

"A staff for Malfoy's bottom?" said Ron quite vulgarly. Harry managed to resist the urge to snicker. Draco rolled his eyes. "It's definitely a broomstick, Weasley. You know, the things that wizards race around on? That you and your brothers have to save up for, Knut by Knut?"

"Well, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!" said Ron in a confident voice. John and Harry glanced at one another before the former face-palmed. "What was it you have at home, a Comet Two-Sixty? I doubt that they are in the same league as this!"

"Well," snapped back a slightly impressed (but still snooty)Malfoy, "that just proves I was right about being out of you and your brothers' reach, Weasley!"

"Hello, boys! I hope you're not fighting," said Professor Flitwick, who had appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "No, no, sir, it's just….well," started Harry, but Malfoy interrupted.

"Potter has got a broomstick, Professor!" he said quickly.

"Yes, yes, I know," said the small Professor, "Professor McGonagall told me about the special circumstances. And pray tell, Mr. Potter, what model is it?"

"It is a Nimbus Two Thousand, sir, and it is because of Malfoy and John here that I got it," replied Harry, who by now was on the verge of corpsing at the look of horror on Draco Malfoy's face. With that, he Ron and John then went up the stairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. John, of course, had his hand to his mouth to hide his laughter.

"It is true though," said Ron.

"You're right, if he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall, I wouldn't be in the team…"

"And I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" said a familiar voice. John face-palmed again. After that night, he and Clara had managed to keep the two boys and Hermione as far away from one another as possible. He'd have to tell her that their efforts had went to naught.

* * *

Later that day, after Harry had been tortured psychologically by the thoughts of his Nimbus Two Thousand lying in the dormitory for him, the trio, with Clara and Amy, went up to unwrap it.

"Wicked," murmured Ron in amazement as he saw the broomstick unroll onto the bed.

"It's beautiful," said Clara in awe. John, although he still had a spot for his Nimbus 1000 (the first one ever bought, at that), agreed.

* * *

Later, at around 10 o'clock at night, Clara found John, dressed in a purple velvet blazer and black slacks, near the fireplace, reading a book. "What book are you reading?" she asked curiously. It was a leather hardback, all red, with no illustrations on the front, and the title was obscured by John's bony fingers ("Wait a minute, they weren't bony earlier today," she thought curiously).

" _The Three Railway Engines_ by Reverend Wilbert Vere Awdry, the first in _The Railway Series_ ," replied John, absorbed into his book.

Clara laughed a bit. "Really? Thomas the Tank Engine? I didn't know you still like him, but considering your personality I should've expected it."

"I don't always care what other people think; it's one of the reasons why I love bowties. Besides, trains are cool-I've been building for the past two years a model train set at home."

"Interesting. I'm currently a third of the way through _101 Places to See_ ," said Clara. "And I have a poster of Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor and Stoic philosopher."

This caused John to look up from his book and ask, "You have a crush on Roman Emperors?" Clara looked at him as if he was green. "No," she said.

"Oh, good," said John. "Amy once titled her history essay on the Roman occupation of Britain as ' _Invasion of the Hot Italians_ '. This did not go well with the teachers, or her aunt."

"Well, at least I have good taste in history," said Clara in a joking manner.

"Well, my father met Churchill and Agatha Christie. She was lovely, he was a fan of bowties too. My father preferred striped neckties and pinstriped suits though."

"My father's still alive. My mother died a few years ago," said Clara, looking down at the ground in sadness. She felt a hand on her shoulder comforting her.

"It's okay, she'd have wanted you to be happy. Any parent who loved their child would want them to be happy," he said in a comforting voice.

Clara looked up and smiled at his rather adorable attempt at consolation, which happened to be working as well. So she wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder, while he stayed motionless, in shock at the gesture.

"Thank you," she said simply before letting go and walking back up to the dorm.

John stood there, motionless for a few seconds before getting his book, sitting back down and reading until he fell asleep at midnight on the dot.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you like this one. I'm not sure when the next chapter will arrive, but it'll hopefully be before Groundhog Day.**

 **John's outfit in the last part is inspired by Peter Capaldi's new outfit (which, as Clara put it, is very 'Doctor-y').**

 **Reviews are welcome, bashing is not, please favourite or follow if you like it! I want to get attention from my other work on this site 'Avengers v Batman', because the DW/HP is underloved and under-rated.**


	11. Troll in the Dungeon (John's Journal)

_An Excerpt from The Journal of John Lungbarrow-Smith_

 _31 October, 11 p.m.-It's been seven weeks since me, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Clara Oswin Oswald and Hermione J. Granger stumbled into the Forbidden Corridor and came face-to-face with the Cerberus. As it happens, Fred and George Weasley (the Marauder's spiritual successors and Ronald's older twin brothers), Terry Boot of Ravenclaw, Amy and Rory, and Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas have also stumbled in there, though I believe that it was intentional in the case of Fred and George (When is it not? Those two love providing free entertainment for the other students, except their victims)._

 _I have been doing well the following subjects:_

 _-Transfiguration (McGonagall is a good professor, fair but strict. She's also an Animagus)_

 _-Charms (Flitwick is fair, and not too strict, and an equally good and competent professor)_

 _-Potions (everybody finds it amazing as to how I've become Snape's favourite Lion, though considering his views of Gryffindor, 'favourite' is too kind)_

 _-DADA (Despite Quirrell, who has probably succumbed to the curse on the position already, though I'm starting to think that the smell coming from his turban isn't garlic)_

 _-History of Magic (I am the only student who can pay full attention in that class. Even Hermione Granger has her brain on half-power then, and I'm considering just ditching and reading in the library when it's on)_

 _-Flying (though Harry Potter is several leagues better than I am, and Malfoy has some talent. I also won 5 galleons from Seamus Finnegan since it somehow leaked that Harry is Gryffindor's Seeker)_

 _It's been a while since I last wrote in this, and I'd like to mention an event that I'm sure will become part of the school legend, and my own lifestory._

* * *

 _It started on Wednesday, when I was leaving Transfiguration for History of Magic. I was walking along, carrying my books, when I heard a familiar voice._

" _John? Is that you?" called out Jack Harkness. I quickly turned around and grinned when I saw it was him. It had been months since I'd last seen Jack, and even though I found him slightly…..annoying at times, I still like keeping touch with him. In the normal way, not Jack's perverted way._

" _Jack! Good to see you! How've you been?" I asked as we hugged, to the slight disgust of two or three of the Slytherins and one or two Gryffindors._

" _I've been good. I see you met Clara, and Granger, and Longbottom. I might've mentioned something about Neville and the Prophecy to them on the train, though….."_

 _I paused, and turned slightly pale. "You used the…uh, Retcon, right?" he asked nervously and quietly. Jack nodded with a smile. 'Retcon' was a codename we both use for Memory Charms, which Jack had somehow managed to learn about a while back. I don't know how to use the difficult spell, but I had good reason to believe that my father taught it to Jack._

" _Anyways, I made sure to alter their memories so that the parts about the Prophecy were erased from their memories, but everything else I mentioned to them-which was just the Wizarding War and how Harry got his scar-is still there. They're both really cute, and pretty, too, Clara Oswald and Hermione. Mind if I have one later on?"_

 _It seems Jack's underage libido is still intact. "No. Besides, I'd best be off, or I'll be late for History of Magic. And you will be late for Transfiguration."_

 _Jack then ran off. I sighed and went off to face Professor Binns. I pity the future generations who will be taught by him. Take my advice-you're better off skipping that class and learning it all in the library!_

 _The next morning, on Halloween, which is today, everybody woke up to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the castle, and in the Great Hall, the decorations were being finished, with Professor Flitwick supervising everything._

* * *

 _In Charms, Professor Flitwick decided it was time for us to learn the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa. This was wonderful, as the class had been waiting to make objects fly. For this, they were placed into pairs. Clara and Amy were together, Harry with Seamus Finnegan, I was with Neville Longbottom, and Ron with Hermione, to the anger of both of them. To tell the truth, it was impossible to tell which was angrier._

" _Don't you forget that nice swish and flick wrist movement!" called out Professor Flitwick, before saying "And don't forget the wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and ended up with a Buffalo on his chest!"_

" _Quite morbid," muttered I to Neville, who nodded in agreement. "Let's try the sp-" he then said to me before a loud explosion came from Harry and Seamus Finnegan, whose face was grey, his hair standing up on end, his clothes singed and covered in what used to be his feather, and his eyebrows singed off for the fourth time that month (Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!). Harry was also trying to put out the fire with his hat, his left ear and cheek also grey, and his robe's shoulder singed._

" _You're swinging it wrong!" Hermione said to Ron. "And it's 'Levi-_ _oh_ _-sa', not 'Levio-_ _sAAA_ _'! Let me try!" So she did, and her feather went up into the air, hopefully bringing more credence to the 'blood purity does not matter' thing._

 _Flitwick was pleased with Hermione, as well as with myself and Neville. Harry was sort-of impressed, and I knew Ron's personality enough that he was envious and fed-up with her know-it-all attitude. How I pull off being a know-it-all with popularity among multiple students, I will never know._

* * *

 _As we were walking out of Charms, I began talking to Amy about Roman history when I overheard Ron saying, "It's Levi-_ _oh_ _-sa, not Levio-_ _sAAA_ _! She's a nightmare, honestly-it's no wonder she hasn't any real friends!" I could tell by Harry's face that he didn't seem too comfortable with that comment._

 _As for Hermione Granger herself, she heard every syllable and began running, tears coming down her face. She must've heard phrases like that all the time before Hogwarts. I should know-I've worn that look before._

 _We didn't see her for the rest of the day after that. It was when classes were finished that me and Clara overheard Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown saying that she was crying in the girls' toilet and wanted to be left alone._

 _Clara gave one look at me and snatched my hand up, dragging me with her even as I tried to break loose._

" _Why me?" I asked. "I want to talk to her John, and I doubt Ron will apologise that soon. Also, you are on reasonably friendly terms with her, so you can talk to her as well."_

 _I objected by pointing out that I, as a boy, could not go into the girls' bathroom with her. "Talk from outside," came her reply. Clara can be stubborn at times._

 _As we neared the girls' bathroom, we both saw something strange. It was Professor Quirrell walking quickly towards us, with what appeared to be a content smirk on his face which quickly disappeared and turned into a face of shock and horror as he began running._

" _What's he so happy about?" wondered Clara. "The moment he saw us, he changed his facial expression and ran off. He must be up to something," I replied. She then let go of my hand and entered the girls' bathroom, leaving me free to quietly tiptoe down the corridor._

 _As I neared the dungeon, a bad smell, like a public toilet nobody's bothered to clean, wafted into my nostrils. I nearly gagged, but it gave me something. There was something down here that shouldn't be down here._

 _And then I saw it. A mountain troll, twelve feet tall, with a giant wooden club in its hand._

 _To simplify it, this was trouble._

* * *

 _From the Great Hall, I could hear the screams of students, and Dumbledore setting off firecrackers from his wand. Presumably, Quirrell had told them about the troll._

" _Oh God," I breathed out, my skin turning a light cream colour as I realised that the troll was coming towards me. Towards the girls' bathroom. Seeing as I might be seen, I turned tail and I ran._

 _When I reached the girls' bathroom, I heard footsteps come from where me and Clara had come, and so I hid in the doorway. It was Professor Snape, heading towards the Third Floor corridor or the troll. It is difficult to say which, really._

 _After a minute, I came out of the doorway and heard some more footsteps, this time with the voices of Harry and Ron. "How could a troll get into the castle? They're supposed to be really stupid!" said Harry. "Maybe it's a Halloween prank by Peeves!" replied Ron. I shook my head and said loudly to them, "Peeves knows better than to do this-he'd be exorcised if this was his doing!"_

" _John!" cried Harry, as they turned the corner and began running towards me._

" _Hermione and Clara are inside! The troll's down there! Snape passed by, but I don't know really about where he's heading. It could be to deal with the troll himself, or to the Third Floor Corridor," I explained to them. They both nodded, and froze._

" _It's there," whimpered out Ron. "It's at the other end of the corridor." I turned around, and saw he was right. Then we ran into the girls' bathroom._

" _What are you three doing now?" asked Clara in a not-very-happy voice, Hermione next to her, her face showing signs that she had been crying. "Voyeurism?!"_

" _No, no, it's just there's a troll in the castle, and by this point now….." I paused to look at my fob watch. "It should be right outside the door."_

 _The two girls immediately took out their wands, as did I. "What we need to do is lure in here. It'll have less space to move around. Then, one or two of us get its attention, while the rest of us knock it out. I don't want to kill it."_

* * *

 _At this point, the troll chose to come in on its own. "Well, that makes our plan easier," said Harry. "Thank you," I replied, smiling nervously._

 _Clara volunteered herself to be the diversion, which she started by firing the Repulso Charm at the troll. This caused the troll to go towards her, destroying a sink with its club dragging on the ground. Ron took the opportunity to take a piece of the porcelain, run back, and throw the piece of sink at the troll's head. "Oi, pea-brain!" he called out. The troll turned and looked at Ron before advancing on us._

 _Harry managed to run around it and get Clara out of where she was, throwing a tap at the troll. This didn't go according to plan, as the troll began to corner them._

 _It was Ron Weasley though, that saved the day, as he pointed his wand at the troll's club and said the first thing that came into his head: Wingardium Leviosa, with the proper pronunciation. The club came out of the troll's grip and rose into the air. Harry and Clara ran out of the way quickly, just as the club came down with a crack on its owner's head. The troll swayed and then fell over onto the floor._

 _The moment it fell on the floor (with a big noise that was sure to be heard by any nearby teachers), it began to change its appearance. It shrunk by about four feet, its ears became smaller, the skin turned orange and small sucker-like things began covering its body except for the face._

" _That's not a troll," said Hermione. "You're right," said I._

* * *

" _Good God," said a voice. We turned around and saw Professors Snape, Quirrell and McGonagall. "A Zygon. They're worse than trolls. Intelligent, ruthless, they use wizarding money too." It was clear by now that the voice was Professor McGonagall's. Then she turned on us, her lips thin._

" _Explain yourselves. All of you." She said this in a really angry and disappointed voice as Snape bent over to examine the troll. It was now that Hermione Jean Granger decided to tell a half-lie._

" _It's my fault, Professor. I came to the girls' bathroom with Clara because I had a bad headache, which is why I didn't attend any of the other classes. John, Harry and Ron came down to warn us about the troll. They didn't mention this to you because it would've wasted time. Who knows what could've happened if they'd arrived later?"_

 _Professor McGonagall looked at her, then at me, Harry and Ron, then at Clara, then at the Zygon. "Fine then," she said at last. "I understand your reasoning, Miss Granger. But still, you all nearly could've died anyway. But I…appreciate the effort and the creativity of how you took on a Zygon. So, six points each for Gryffindor. For sheer dumb luck, that is."_

 _Most of us nodded, and we went up to the Gryffindor Tower, where the feast was being finished. For a while nobody said anything._

" _It's a relief to be away from the smell," said Ron finally. Then Harry and Clara made "Ahem!" noises and he turned to face Hermione, his cheeks slightly red. "I'm…I'm sorry," he said. She nodded. "That's okay-so am I," she said._

 _Not many things happen in a school that can be shared with many people-troll/Zygon fighting is one of them. So is discovering where the secret passageway into the kitchens is._

 _It's now 11.30p.m., and most of my classmates are asleep in the dorm. I think they're right too-it is time to go to bed. So, I bid this book of my exploits goodnight. I shall begin writing in it again when Quidditch season begins._

* * *

 **I apologise for the lack of updates since Christmas.**

 **The reason I've made this chapter seem to be an extract from John/11's journal is because I wanted to do something different. Also, I decided to make happened with the troll turn out differently because-well, it's an AU. I'm changing some details, but most of the major things will stay the same. Whether or not I comply to the epilogue of Deathly Hallows is up to myself and how I write any version of the other books in this little continuity.**

 **Also, I'm amazed nobody has caught on to the hints about John's appearance over the past few chapters.**


	12. The Common Room (Pre-Quidditch Match)

It was now early November, and the grounds were covered in frost. Hagrid could often be seen in his big furry gloves and moleskin overcoat defrosting the broomsticks in time for Quidditch season. John and Amy were now taking to reading history books in the library instead of History of Magic, which Madam Pince didn't mind-she too believed it was time to get rid of Binns. Besides, they'd get better results the end-of-year exams than their classmates by doing this. Oakdown had caught on to this ingeniousness and planned on starting the same thing with Theodore Nott.

Even though it leaked that Harry was Gryffindor's Seeker, nobody except the other Gryffindor players and Professor McGonagall had seen him practise. As a result, there was intense speculation as to whether or not he would be as good as his predecessor, Charlie Weasley. Snape, Malfoy and the Slytherin Quidditch team were praying this would not be the case.

"What's he like?" asked Hermione one morning. "Who?" asked the Weasley twins. "Oliver Wood. I've noticed that you've been getting up an hour earlier than everyone else on Saturdays," answered the bushy-haired girl. Fred looked at George with a smirk.

"He's mental." Fred started.

"Totally obsessed," George continued.

"Neither of us can believe he has a girlfriend, he's so fanatical about Quidditch," they finished together with devilish grins. Hermione didn't like the look of that grin. John did, and five minutes later he, Seamus Finnegan, Amy Pond and the twins were hiding Ron's Chudley Cannons paraphernalia around the school.

* * *

Ron was not happy when he discovered his beloved Cannons things were gone, and even more angry when it turned out that Amy Pond (without the knowledge of the others) had changed them from the Chudley Cannons to the Dublin Darts, on the grounds that "McGonagall will die before the Cannons win the League again," which, as said Professor was standing behind her when she made that statement, caused her to lose Gryffindor 15 points and earn a detention with Flitwick, helping him sort out the Charms homework of every class. Naturally, John had managed to cover his tracks well enough that Professor McGonagall knew he was involved, but couldn't prove it, while the twins got a detention with Snape.

"How do you do these things?" asked Ron when he and Hermione entered the common room on Friday. Tomorrow was the first match of the season, between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Do what?" asked John, looking up from his copy of _The Quibbler_ and wearing a 19th century-era floral patterned dressing gown.

"He's asking you how in the name of God you avoid detention," called Clara, who had been adding the finishing touches to her Charms essay outside with her fellow Muggle-born and their red-headed friend.

"I haven't a clue, believe me," replied the boy in the bowtie, his eyes back on the page of the magazine. "And why are you three in here now?"

"Snape," groaned Ron. "He took five points from Gryffindor simply because of Harry was reading a library book outside, and he took the book too!" John rolled his eyes. 'Typical Snape dislike of Gryffindors', he thought. He could have easily been a Slytherin if he had asked the Hat enough times, or had even been a bit more inclined to his more Slytherin attributes, so he had no real dislike of the House-it was just the Death Eaters and Voldemort that he despised for blackening the House's reputation. Sadly, this meant he disliked their children, who had inherited the ideology and love of cheap racist slurs.

"He had a limp too. I think it's something to do with the fact he was heading to the Forbidden Corridor, so presumably he got bitten by that dog," said Hermione.

Seamus and Dean Thomas, who were playing Wizards' Chess together, shuddered slightly at the mention of the three-headed monster being kept in the school. That it managed to harm a teacher made it worse, even if it was Snape.

"Keep in mind, that that dog is only the first line of defence. Under that trapdoor there's bound to be worse and more dangerous things defending whatever the hell they're guarding," stated Clara, which only made Ron, Seamus and Dean Thomas shudder further. None of them wanted to know what was under that trapdoor now.

"Where is Harry anyway?" asked Dean Thomas. Seamus looked at his Muggleborn friend, then at Hermione, Ron and Clara, his eyebrow raised.

"He went to ask Professor Snape if he could have the book back. It's a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ ," answered Ron.

"Ah," went Seamus. "That explains it. And it's good to see you're all getting along. It's bad enough you two arguing about the West Ham poster without the fact you live with me, Neville, John and Harry."

Ron and Dean glared at him. The two girls giggled. John was oblivious to all this, having returned to the wonderfully surreal land of _The Quibbler_.

* * *

A minute later, when Seamus and Dean were back to playing Wizards' Chess, and Lavender Brown was talking about clothes with Parvati Patil, the portrait opened and in stepped the Weasley Twins and Lee Jordan, laughing like hyenas due to some prank they must have pulled. If it was a teacher, they'd be in trouble. If it was Snape, bigger trouble. McGonagall-they would not be showing Gryffindor bravery, but stupidity and/or possess a death wish. Dumbledore-he'd chuckle a bit and use some harmless jinx on them as his payback. And if this was big enough to warrant the attention of their mother, they had better start running.

"What did you do now?" asked Hermione. Clara looked at them with suspicious eyes.

"We changed the passwords to the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms," said Lee Jordan who had recovered (Fred and George were now on the ground).

"To what?" asked Clara. Lee grinned.

"For the Ravenclaws, it's 'What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen West African swallow?'"

Hermione rolled her eyes and Clara started to laugh silently. They both understood the Monty Python reference.

"What is the new Slytherin password?" asked Ron, smirking.

"Muggles are awesome!" cried George in between laughs.

"And the Hufflepuffs?" asked Seamus, chuckling.

"We are all badgers!" laughed Fred.

At this point, the portrait opened again, and in stepped Harry, panting and with a look of horror in his eyes. Ron and Hermione went over to him.

"Did you get the book back Harry?" asked Ron. Harry didn't answer; he was still getting his breath back. Ron and Hermione looked at one another with concerned looks before the redheaded boy asked Harry what the matter was.

"I saw Snape and Filch in the staffroom," said Harry, his breath back now. This caused the twins, Lee, Seamus and Dean to start laughing louder, with Clara now full-on laughing.

"Snape had his robes above his knees…" continued Harry, increasing the laughs but now Ron was corpsing, and had his hands on his knees. Hermione was doing much better with trying not to laugh (though she couldn't help but smirk. The way Harry said it made it sound wrong).

"…and Snape's leg was cut and bloodied. Filch was changing the bandages and Snape was complaining about the dog and its heads. Then I was spotted and Snape practically barked at me to get out."

"So now we know!" said John, still reading _The Quibbler_. Harry and Hermione turned to look at him, as did Dean Thomas and Ron, who had both sobered and recovered from their fit of laughter.

"Know what?" asked Dean.

"What Professor Snape was doing walking down the corridor on Halloween."

"He has to be involved somehow, I just know it!" said Ron. "He has to be trying to get past it, and Filch is his accomplice, too!"

Hermione looked at him with an incredulous look. "I never knew you could say such big words!" she gasped with a mocking-and-teasing tone with a good bit of sarcasm. Ron gave her a look. She merely smirked smugly. Harry looked at Seamus worriedly, their eyes both saying that neither of them wanted Hermione being taught anything else by the madman in a bowtie.

The madman wearing a bowtie in question merely grinned, pleased with himself that he had 'corrupted' her. Then again, he had taught her the lowest form of wit in a weird and possibly fruitless attempt to ensure the safety of the school-he would never show it, but he was secretly terrified whenever Mount Hermione erupted.

* * *

 **This is a bit more of a humorous chapter, and I've split the eleventh chapter of PS/SS into two parts like I did with chapter ten because I want to add more original scenarios and dialogue.**

 **Also, I am contemplating joining the ranks of people who have written fanfiction about 'reading the books' or 'watching the films', but at the same time, I know it's all been done before.**

 **Don't forget to review!**


	13. Gryffindor vs Slytherin and Jinxes

Harold Oakdown and John Lungbarrow-Smith, strangely enough, were together in the library, sitting next to one another, an old book in between one another and a ballpoint pen in their hands scribbling down notes.

"Why are we taking down notes together about Dark Objects?" asked John. Harold sighed. "It's because, my dear Dickie-bow, Quirrell is about as good at teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts as Mr. Potter is at not getting in trouble with Professor Snape."

John chuckled lightly. So far this year, Harry had had a total of 40 points taken from Gryffindor House by Snape, which wasn't bad, considering that the Weasley twins had lost 80 points in their first month at Hogwarts.

"What do you think of Potter?" asked Harold. John turned around slightly, his eyebrow raised slightly. Today, his hair was a rat's nest like Harry's in every way, only the same shade of brown as Hermione's. His eyebrows were also more noticeable.

"I think he'll be a good Seeker. He could have gotten the Remembrall out of Malfoy's hand without my help and still caught it."

"True. And presumably they still would have ended up in that corridor without you or the girl, Oswald. Of course, let's hope you give the purebloods proper fashion sense."

At this they both chuckled. Even they, with their unconventional taste in fashion, were in touch with the latest Muggle fashions better than the pure-blooded adults, or even the half-bloods.

And the reason as to why Harold was not sending insulting messages to John or the mad boy in a bowtie giving Harold's associates bruises on cheeks? They had decided that, to keep the school standing and to practise for later on, they'd keep to a more friendly rivalry than the one between Harry and Draco, with them both agreeing to wait until after the OWLs to make their rivalry more serious and dangerous to one another. They both admitted that they could easily end this family rivalry now, but that it was more fun to let it continue into the 21st century-it was pretty much a tradition that the Lungbarrows and the Oakdowns be at one another's throats.

John and Harold continued writing down shorthand notes from the book in between them for several more minutes in silence before Madam Pince walked up towards them, her hawk-like nose given more emphasis by her pince-nez glasses.

"It's now twenty-five minutes to eleven. I don't know why you two are making notes on Dark Objects but I've been informed that unless you two have detention, then you are to join your classmates at the Quidditch Stadium," she stated, her voice firm and Welsh.

Knowing that she would probably place them in detention herself, John and Harold obliged. "We'll come back tomorrow to finish the note-taking," whispered John to Harold when the librarian had turned her back and started walking away. Harold nodded in agreement, and the two boys exited the library.

"Where have you been? The game's about to start, and I really want to see what wizard culture is like," said Clara, who was standing a few feet from the stadium, on the balls of her feet, and wearing a long Gryffindor-coloured scarf that was draped around her.

"I was in the library taking down notes," replied John, rubbing his biceps in what would clearly be a failed attempt to keep warm, as the snow was predicted to come early this year.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Well come on!" she said excitedly, grabbing his hand and dragging him up to the Gryffindor stand, where they could see the entire field.

* * *

In the changing rooms, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper, was clearing his throat for silence, Fred and George wearing identical bored looks.

"Okay now, men," began Wood.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson, a dark-haired girl in the same year as the Weasley Twins.

"And women," Wood agreed, nodding his head up and down, "This is it."

"The big one," said Second Year Katie Bell, who was also a Chaser. This was her first game as well, and she and Harry, being the youngest members of the Quidditch team, had begun to form a friendship.

"The one that we have all been waiting for," said Fred and George together (Katie had beaten Fred to the 'big one' comment).

"We were on the team last year, so we know Wood's speech by heart," murmured Fred to Harry. "Shut it, George," said Wood. Fred and George looked at one another.

"He's not Fred, Oliver. I am," said Fred with a smile, pointing to George and himself. Wood just raised his hands to his elbows, palms facing the team.

"This is the best team that Gryffindor has had in years. There's nothing that says we can't win. We have to win. We will win! I know it."

After glaring at them, almost as if daring someone to say 'Or else', he smiled his enthusiastic smile, saying "Good luck to all of you."

Harry and the twins nodded, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team marched out on the pitch, facing the cheering crowds. The Slytherin team was already out, their captain being Marcus Flint, a tall Fifth Year who looked like he had troll blood inside him.

* * *

In the Gryffindor stands, John was looking around the pitch with his binoculars. He looked at the Ravenclaws. They were smiling and waving for Gryffindor. Slytherin had been winning the Quidditch Cup for almost as long as they had been winning the House Cup, and the other houses were eager to see their winning streak end. He could make out their new Seeker, a dark-haired girl with pretty features, next to Martha Jones, who was a short dark-haired girl around a few weeks younger than Ron and one of the best of her year and house at Potions and Herbology, spurred no doubt by her desire to become a Healer.

The Hufflepuffs were of the same reaction. John could make out Susan Bones' strawberry blonde hair, and Rory's dark blonde head of hair (and large nose), in the crowd. As far as he knew, Rory, being a Muggle-born, had quickly become interested in becoming both a wizard Healer and a nurse.

The Slytherins clearly wanted to win. Jack Harkness was not paying attention though. He was in a conversation with a rather attractive Sixth-Year girl, and they were both smiling and nodding. John mentally rolled his eyes.

Then, he looked at the teachers. McGonagall was sitting next to Lee Jordan, the commentator, to watch out for bias against Slytherin. Quirrell was pale and looking around, giving the occasional glance to the Gryffindor stand. John thought he knew why. He suspected that Quirrell, despite appearing to be a nervous wreck with a bloody annoying stutter, was the one who let the Zygon into the castle, though considering the Zygons were shape-shifters and would also work as mercenaries, he could be wrong.

Snape was looking down, but his eyes were moving constantly-first to the Slytherin team, then to Potter, and back again.

John then looked down to where the team were in time to see Madam Hooch throw the Quaffle up into the air. He smiled as he saw Harry go up above the pitch, to about twenty feet above the stands doing nothing but just hovering.

"Harry's doing a good strategy," said Clara, looking up at the small figure that was Harry Potter. "Just staying up above everyone else, not doing anything except keeping an eye out for the Snitch-he's also somewhat safer from the bludgers."

"I agree-Wood knows his tactics," said Ron, who was mostly watching the Chasers try and score a goal in the Slytherin hoop. They did not disappoint.

* * *

Everyone cheered when Gryffindor scored. Lee Jordan sounded excited and happy, and you could hear McGonagall reprimanding him for bias and for what sounded like flirting with Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, two of the other Chasers on the team.

"Move o'er! Some room please!" called out Hagrid as the giant of a man tried to come over to where Ron, Hermione, Dean Thomas, Clara, Seamus Finnegan, Neville and John were sitting.

"I've bin watchin' from me hut, but nothin' beats sittin' down up 'ere!" he explained, as Gryffindor scored again.

John and Hagrid watched the game intently-Hagrid just watching the game, while John was methodically looking around. His gut told him there'd be trouble coming.

Ron was glued to the game. Gryffindor was in the lead, and Lee Jordon was providing his biting pseudo-satiric criticisms of the Slytherin team (to be fair, they were mostly justified, considering that their new Chaser had the combined IQ of Crabbe and Goyle).

"Slytherin is in possession of the Quaffle." Lee's voice was getting more and more excited. "Chaser Adrian Pucey ducks two Bludgers-and thus, two Weasleys-and the new Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell and speeds towards the-wait a minute, was that the Snitch?"

Everything stopped. Pucey dropped the Quaffle. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs, a Third Year with enough decency to play by the rules, had begun to head in its direction, as did Harry. The two soon became neck-and-neck, Higgs flashing Harry a look saying 'good luck, you'll be needing it', and Oliver Wood was still valiantly defending the goalposts, having enough sense to know that the enemy Chasers might try something if he were distracted.

* * *

Then, a roar of disapproval from the non-Slytherin students, especially Gryffindor, as Flint had deliberately slammed into Harry, causing the broom to go off-course, Harry holding on for dear life. John winced-it _had_ to have hurt.

"Cheater! Cheater!" called out Clara. John looked at her-although she was excited to learn more about this strange new world that was open for exploring for her, she hadn't seemed too enthusiastic about ten minutes into the game, which was probably because she had figured out it was basically Muggle soccer played on broomsticks, with four balls and six hoops.

Madam Hooch called a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor, after a severe talking-to to Flint, who didn't appear to show much remorse.

"Red card! Red card! Send him off!" called out Dean. Ron looked at him, confused. "You can't send players off, Dean," he said, with a bit more tact than Halloween, "and what's a red card?"

"In Muggle soccer, a red card is used to say that a player is off the pitch and is barred from playing for the rest of the game," explained Amy, her hand clutching an imaginary object-she wanted to give that cheating bastard Flint a piece of her mind.

"They oughta change the rules," stated Hagrid firmly. "Flint coulda knocked Harry right outta the air." Seamus nodded, as did Hermione, who had her hand clutched around her wand and was contemplating sacrificing her moral code of not breaking rules-which she had already compromised by lying to Professor McGonagall-for a shot at the bully who had nearly killed her new friend. Once they saw the look in her eyes, Clara, Neville, Dean, Seamus and John made sure to keep a safe distance from her. Ron was too focused on the game to notice.

John was now focusing on Harry, then Lee Jordan being reprimanded by Professor McGonagall for saying Flint was cheating (in truth, he was right), then Snape staring at Harry, then Quirrell also staring at Harry, then at Professors Flitwick and Baker (wearing a seven-foot scarf in the colours of the four houses) placing bets on the winner, then back to Harry, whose broom was now appearing to try and buck him off like a bull at a rodeo.

He immediately put his binoculars down, almost thinking it was a trick of the light, and he saw that Harry's broom really _was_ out of his control. He nudged Ron, pointed at Harry, and made sure to inform the others. By this point, everyone was watching Harry as his broom made a jerk and he clung onto the broom with only one hand.

"D'you think Flint did something to Harry's broom when he blocked him?" asked Seamus quietly. Hermione shook her head.  
"Nothin' but Dark Magic could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand-and no kid could master that," said Hagrid, his voice shaking in worry for his friend.

"Snape appears to be jinxing. He's keeping eye contact and mumbling," said Clara, who had taken Hagrid's binoculars and was now looking at the teachers' stand, "but then again, so is Quirrell. It could be either one of them."

"I'll stop them both," said Hermione. "I'm the last one the teachers'll suspect of doing this to them."

Ron and the others (bar Neville, who had buried his face into Hagrid's moleskin overcoat) agreed with this, and they let Hermione run off, her wand in her hand and her mind going at twice its usual speed of a mile a minute.

'If Snape is jinxing, then Quirrell is counter-jinxing,' thought Hermione as she went down below the Gryffindor stand and began running on the rafters to the teachers' stands. 'If Quirrell is jinxing, then Snape is counter-jinxing. But why would Snape counter-jinx? He _hates_ Harry! Still, it'd be best if I take them both out, just in case.'

* * *

Ron was pale now, and none of the Gryffindors were taking their eyes off Harry. Fred and George had already tried to pull Harry onto one of their brooms to safety, but each time Harry's broom simply went up and higher.

After climbing onto some higher rafters, Hermione was still running. She ran into Professor Quirrell and knocked him down, and when she reached Snape's cloak, she whispered a few words, and bright blue flames shot out of her wand.

Thirty seconds was all it took for Snape to notice he was on fire, but by the time he did, Hermione had placed the flames into a small jar and ran off back to the stands-Snape would never know she had done this.

This was enough, as up in the air, Harry was finally able to get control of his broom again, and immediately began to dive as he saw the Snitch.

Hermione peeked out from the rafters and saw the final moments of the game. Harry, a mere five feet from the ground, clapped his hands to his mouth as if he was about to be sick, tumbled off his broom-hitting the ground on all fours-coughed-and something gold fell into his hand.

He had caught the Snitch by nearly swallowing it, ending the game with a Gryffindor victory, 170-60. The crowd roared, three-quarters of the students thrilled that Slytherin had lost.

* * *

 **I'm kind of happy with how this chapter went. I'm not exactly pleased with how poorly I explained the Oakdown-Lungbarrow truce. I think it just might've been an excuse for me to have Harold reappear after an absence of four chapters.**

 **Also, as stated in Chapter 11, there will be a few more changes to how the events in the books/films went, considering this is an AU-I can't have everything go the way it does in the books or films. Especially since I'm thinking of changing the fate of a certain Marauder...**

 **Oh, and don't forget to review! If you favourite it, let me know what you want to see in future chapters!**


	14. November (Post-Quidditch Match)

Harry and the small group of friends he had weren't around with the other Gryffindors to celebrate Slytherin losing the match-he was at Hagrid's hut.

"It has to have been Snape, Hermione," argued Ron. "Who else hates Harry so much to kill him?"

Hermione shook her head, countering with "No, Ron-remember, even though Snape was showing all the signs of performing a concentration jinx-and wandless too, I might add, which is impressive-Professor Quirrell was showing just as many signs. Keep in mind that everyone knows Snape hates Harry-he's just too obvious a suspect to actually jinx it!"

Hagrid, John, Clara and Harry (who was wrapped in a blanket) were watching the debate with interest. Although Ron was mostly repeating some of his points, he had managed to develop quite a few of them. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was proving to be a master at debating. Her points were well-though, clear and concise, and she was wiping the floor with Ron.

Hagrid was originally concerned as to why they suspected two members of the faculty, but the argument between Ron and Hermione had managed to answer his question.

Five seconds after Hermione gave her most recent point, Ron put his hands in the air, saying "Alright! You win! We'll keep an eye on the both of them! But Snape _was_ bitten by that three-headed monster in the Forbidden Corridor-"

"What d'you all know 'bout Fluffy?" asked Hagrid quickly. John sprayed his tea out in surprise, which was unfortunate for Ron as he received the full force of Hagrid's boiling hot tea, burning his ear and part of his face.

Clara's eyes widened as she remembered the monster in the third-floor corridor. ' _He called that three-headed hell-hounded_ _Fluffy_ _, of all things?_ ' was the thought going through her mind after Hagrid's question.

Ron exited, heading towards the Hospital Wing to take care of the red marks covering half his face. John looked worried. He'd apologise to the youngest Weasley boy later, but he knew well to keep an eye out in case Gred and Forge handed him payback. Considering that a good few of their pranks in the past few weeks had been his idea, he felt a bit more secure in knowing they wouldn't fully damage their new accomplice.

"That thing's called _Fluffy_?" asked Hermione incredulously, her brown eyes wide and staring at Hagrid. Hagrid nodded nonchalantly.

"Yeah, 'e's mine. I bought 'im from a Greek chappie las' year down at the pub. A few weeks ago, Dumbledore asked me if 'e could borrow 'im and use 'im to guard the-" He stopped quickly, having realised he'd told them too much.

"To guard the what, Hagrid?" asked Hermione, her curiosity piqued. Hagrid looked at her, at John, at Harry, at Clara, at Neville, and at the fireplace. An awkward silence filled the room.

"I've said too much, I 'ave. What Fluffy's guardin' is top secret. It's too dangerous fer you all to go an' snoop around findin' out what it is! Forget the dog, forget yer little conspiracy regardin' Snape an' Quirrell-this is private stuff between Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"So there's someone else?" asked Neville. Hagrid groaned to himself.

* * *

As November drew on, John and Amy had convinced Neville to join them in the library, with Harry and Hermione (not that she entirely approved what they were doing) telling them what their homework was when they met up, and Binns still having yet to notice there were six First Years (John, Neville and Amy-Gryffindor, and Harold, Nott and Tracey Davis for Slytherin) skipping his classes-not that the other teachers cared, considering they too agreed that Binns needed to be gotten rid of (it was one of the only pieces of common ground between the four Houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin).

Additionally, Snape had changed his behaviour-actually teaching the students instead of DIY, though he was still showing some bias towards his House, giving them extra points. Many students had reason to believe this change in behaviour was because McGonagall and Dumbledore had finally decided to act and pressure him into being less bullying.

The weather was also becoming colder, and a larger portion of the students (usually the older ones and the ones who hated their families) had decided to stay over the winter holidays compared to last year.

One morning, towards the end of November, Clara's alarm went off at around twenty-one minutes past six. She rolled over tiredly to grab it and turn it off but for some reason, all she felt was something large and feathery. She then heard her alarm clock no more. Her tired mind being curious, she rolled over to see what it was that was on her bedside drawer.

It was Idris. Clara groaned unhappily. She'd gone up to the Owlery to post a letter to her Dad (John had given permission to use Idris) when the giant feathery creature had been as uncooperative as possible for an owl, leaving her with several scratches on her hand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked grouchily, while keeping her voice down enough to not wake up any of her dorm-mates, which was not the easiest task; Parvati and Lavender were very deep sleepers, Amy was always awake by ten past six, and Hermione alternated between using earmuffs and a headset which was connected to a Wireless on her bedside drawer that she always had tuned to BBC Radio 3. Nobody asked questions on how a Magical Wireless was able to pick up a Muggle radio station.

Idris did not respond. She simply continued staring at Clara. Clara wondered if she was going to become the owl's next meal.

'Nah,' she decided. 'I'm too big, even for _her_.'

* * *

It was at this moment as well, that Clara finally woke up enough to realise that Idris was standing up on something. Before, she had thought that the feathered beast had grown.

The something Idris had been standing on had also _not_ been there last night.

Idris tried her best to tilt her head, and her eyes now had a look of 'Have you finally gotten it yet, twit?'

Clara caught the message and wondered malevolently what would happen if she flipped her enemy off. 'Me losing a finger', she concluded, wondering briefly what owls thought of the taste of human flesh.

Her mind-now 68.8% awake-focused back on the something Idris was standing on.

"Would you be so kind as to get off the thing you're standing on?" she asked politely.

The look she was receiving from the owl appeared to have the message 'Really?'

"Yes, really," Clara answered back through clenched teeth.

'Alright, though I don't see why he bothered with you,' Idris responded snarkily as she jumped off the thing and onto the desk. Clara did not catch her thought.

Clara reached for the thing slowly and carefully, just in case Idris decided to bite it off, grabbed hold of it, and quickly took it back.

It was a box wrapped in patterned wrapping paper, the kind usually bought in Muggle stationery stores.

For a brief moment, Clara wondered just why this was here with the feathered beast.

Then it clicked. She quickly turned to look at the calendar.

Today was the 23rd of November. _Her birthday_.

"Why did John do this?" she asked herself quietly before she went to turn and the light (miraculously avoiding being bitten by Idris) and starting to quietly unwrapping it.

On top of the present was a tall card. Picking it up slowly, she opened it to see what was inside.

' _Happy 12th birthday, Clara Oswin Oswald,_ ' it began.

' _I hope you like this. I asked the Weasley Twins to get it down at Hogsmeade. I really hope you like it._

' _The interesting thing is, my birthday's on the 23rd too!_

' _Well, enough rambling. Enjoy your birthday. Who knows what might happen._

 _'_ _Signed, John_ '

Clara stared at it for a few seconds, smiling softly, whilst thinking rather amusing thoughts.

"He's right," she said to Idris, surprising herself at how she hadn't insulted the creature. "It is funny we have the same birthday."

* * *

 **Hello, followers and readers! After nearly a year of hiatus, I've finally posted a new chapter!**

 **My excuse for the wait-writer's block.**

 **It seems to be a common motif in my stories that I have Snape pressured from McGonagall into toning down his** _ **lovely**_ **relationship with the students. Maybe because it's always interesting to see a perfectionist with amazingly high standards having to cope with all the shit that goes on when teaching unruly teenagers in an unsafe area (Potions classroom), do their best to keep his/her cool on it, and let the pressure build up inside.**

 **I give him two years.**

 **I've been neglecting it everywhere, but I must remind you I do not own the rights to any of these characters. Does my style look like J.K. Rowling's?**


End file.
